Devistated Sight
by btch sprinkles
Summary: "He wondered about the irony of it all, the people who lost their sight, were devastated by that loss, and how devastated he felt now by this sudden gain." Blind since birth, Sam wakes up with his sight one day and has to re-learn everything from scratch. The boys follow the clues to figure out why and how Sam's sight was restored. Cas/Dean Balthazar/Sam
1. Chapter 1

**A/N- So I see lots of blind!Sam or blind!Dean or even blind!Cas fics that tell how they cope with the loss, etc. It got me thinking, how crippled would one of the characters feel if they'd lived their entire life blind, only to have their sight restored out of nowhere. Probably about five chapters or so. I'll try and update as much as I can. I have changed some canon events in order to create my time-line, since this isn't soulless Sam. Mainly Bobby's ghost etc.** **Oh and I'll mention here- the thing that the doctor said to Sam's parents about the oxygen. I blatantly stole that from what the doctors told my husband's parents when he was born. Heh. Because I am a dirty thief of his stories sometimes.**

**qp**

**_"Ten days, give me ten days and then burn the damn thing. You got me boy?"_**

It was a dream. At least Dean thought it was a dream. I mean hell, they hadn't heard from the ghost of Bobby in a long time, and they'd both been sure he'd finally moved on. To… wherever. Heaven, because despite being a drunken bastard most of the time, Bobby was a good man.

Sam noticed Dean's silence, though. His ears, trained from birth to replace his eyes, picked up on that sort of shufffft sound that the flask made when Dean turned it in his hands. "I thought you were going to burn that."

Dean, unsurprised by the things his brother noticed without seeing, just gave a shrug and tossed it on the ratty motel bed. "Yeah. Yeah, I should do that."

Sam's eyes, more hazel than Dean's which were flecked with blue, were half-lidded as usual. He'd been blind from birth, something to do with the amount oxygen he'd been given since he was born two months premature. "We can either risk giving him too much, which may cause blindness, or risk giving him too little and risk brain damage," the doctor had said.

Sam's birth had been a home-birth, unexpected, way too early, and even at his young age Dean remembered how small and strange the baby looked. See-through skin, little fists curled around themselves. His parents, of course, risked blindness, and despite John and Mary's initial grief, they never really regretted it.

Sam proved himself at eight, that he could hunt as well as Dean, and the damn kid was a genius anyway. So they just sort of… went with it. Of course John never really warmed to the kid, and maybe it was the blindness, but maybe it was just the fact that John blamed Sam for Mary's death. Or maybe it was that John was just a broken man and really it never mattered in the end because there was Dean, and Dean was always going to be there for his brother.

Dean glanced over at Sam, who was using his Braille ticker on the laptop, doing research for the crossroads demon they were hunting. His brow was furrowed in concentration. His eyes rolled to and fro, his eye-muscles weaker since he never used them, but he had a slight smile on his face and it gave Dean some comfort.

"I'll do a salt and burn on it tonight, for good measure," Dean said. He looked over at the flask and that dream hit him again. "Or you know, when we get done with this job."

The demon was easy to take out. The brothers had a rhythm, and they'd killed so many of those fuckers it didn't really matter anymore. Sam was more efficient than Dean in the dark, for obvious reasons, and managed to lure it to the Devil's Trap and then Dean had the honor—as he almost always did—of 'ganking that son of a bitch'. Easy as that.

Sam accidentally bumped his watch on the wall as they were heading out of the warehouse and the tinkling electronic voice read out the date. "Sorry," Sam said with a small laugh, as the sudden sound startled the brothers.

Dean realized it had been exactly ten days. He had the flask in his pocket. Sam stood by, his eyes mostly closed as Dean threw the flask into one of those discarded metal trash cans that no one really used anymore. Salt in his pocket, as always, bit of fuel, flick of the lighter.

Sam stood at his side as it burned, he warmed his hands on the flames a little and then rested his hand on Dean's shoulder. "I'm beat."

"Yeah," Dean said. He blinked against the smoke in his face and wiped his wrist across his brow, irritated to find a little bit of blood there. "Me too."

qp

It was pain that woke Sam from his sleep. Violent and pulsing behind his eyes, he let out a soft cry as he turned onto his side and groped for the bedside table. His head was spinning as he attempted to sit up, and the vertigo caused a wave of nausea to hit him so strong he wasn't sure he was going to be able to hold it in.

Letting out a slow breath, Sam pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand and felt the pain start to recede slowly. Licking his lips, eyes still squeezed shut, Sam touched his watch and the small voice read out that it was just past nine in the morning. Sam rarely slept that long, but it had been a particularly vicious night and both he and Dean needed the rest.

He turned his head slightly, listening, and found that Dean hadn't stirred yet, his big brother's breath still coming slow and even. The vertigo began to calm, as did Sam's stomach, and he finally was able to sit up completely. He kept his fingers pressed to his eyes, afraid if he let go the pressure would return, and he wondered if he was getting some sort of sinus infection or flu. This was no time to be knocked down by an illness, and the thought irritated him to no end.

Sam's free hand brushed down the front of his shirt and he realized he had fallen onto the bed and passed out in his blood-stained clothes, which was an unpleasant thought. A shower would probably help with any sort of headache anyway, so Sam dropped his hand and let his eyes blink open.

Normally, when Sam did this, he'd see light, but nothing else. Just a sort of piercing whiteness, and the occasional shadow, but that was it. This morning, however, something was… different. It was bright and there were… things, everywhere. Things looming and scary and Sam let out a shout, slamming his eyes shut and he threw himself against the headboard.

That had done the trick, succeeding in waking up Dean, who jumped up, his voice thick with sleep as he called out, "Sammy? What's wrong? What's going on?"

"Ah," Sam cried out as he tried to open his eyes again and was met with the same sort of… he didn't know what, but it was bright and horrible and different. His head spun from trying to understand what the hell it was and he struggled to stay upright.

He was going to vomit.

Trying his best to keep it down with his eyes open, suddenly a thing… this mass of shapes and strange color and it was moving, Sam could tell, because he know what the sound and feel of moving was like, and it was right in front of him.

That did it.

Groping on the side of the bed for the wastebasket he knew was there, Sam leaned over and retched. Hard. Not a lot came out, mostly bile and a little left-over beer from the night before, and the pounding in his head returned as he felt Dean's hand on his shoulder.

"What the hell is going on, Sam?"

Sam kept his eyes firmly slammed shut as he sat up, wiping his hand across his mouth. He felt disgusting now, he hated puking, and he was absolutely and completely terrified.

"I um…" he said. He cracked open one eye now, and that thing was there, so close, just a mess and jumble of things that Sam's head could not process.

He moved, and something moved with it, a… thing… and it reached across to touch whatever it was that sat in front of him. The moment the moving thing, that moved with his hand, made contact with the other thing in front of him, his fingers told his brain that it was Dean, and Sam felt a fresh wave of nausea wash over him.

"Oh god," Sam said. He closed his eyes again and let his fingers dash up the side of Dean's face to the thick, shining scar along his left ear.

That scar was Sam's touchstone. Dean had gotten it when he was eight, Sam was four, and it was during a stretch in a suburban neighborhood in Arizona. The house had a pool, and neighbors that wanted to watch the cute little boys while John was on the road. Everyone was so worried about the little blind boy in the shallow-end of the pool that they'd forgotten to mention the patch of slick concrete near the edge of the deep-end, right where a jagged chunk was missing.

Dean had cried out, "Cannon ball!" and ran. He slipped, cracked his head on the cement, and the jagged edge nearly tore the boy's ear clean off. It was the little blind boy who surprised the babysitters by pulling Dean out of the pool and kept the ear, which was hanging on by just a thin piece of skin, pressed to his head with a towel.

That injury took one-hundred and seventy-two stitches. Neither boy ever forgot that number. That scar was Sam's way of telling for sure who the man sitting in front of him was. Dean always wore his amulet and leather jacket, but anyone could wear that. Anyone. No one had Dean's scar.

Sam felt like puking again as he cracked open an eye. The thing in front of him, the Dean-thing, was moving again, shifting but he allowed Sam's fingers to press to the scar. Dean was used to that, never thought twice about it, but he was obviously confused about Sam's behavior, evident in his voice.

"What's wrong with you, Sammy? You're white as a damn sheet."

Dean's voice was coming from the movement of the shaped thing in front of him and being a genius, Sam put two and two together, though he wasn't quite sure how to process it completely.

Dropping his hand, Sam re-steadied himself on the bed, cleared his throat, did his best to look at the thing that he had to remind himself was his brother, and he said, "Dean… I think… I think I can see."

Sam absolutely expected the pregnant pause, and the sputtering from his brother. He expected the gruff, "What the hell do you mean, you can see? Like see, see? Like… with your eyes?"

Sam was still squinting, overwhelmed by everything his eyes were processing, things his brain had never processed before, but the more he told himself the thing standing in front of him was Dean, the easier it was getting. Well, sort of. "Well yeah."

"Bullshit," Dean said. Sam blinked hard as another thing suddenly encompassed his new vision, the motion of it making his stomach turn. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Sam's hand darted out to feel three, and he said as much.

"Cute," Dean said. "Tell me with your eyes."

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "Dean, I don't know what the hell fingers look like, or… or how many is three… or… Dean, I'm freaking out here. What the hell happened? How am I seeing?"

Dean took a step back from Sam and ran his fingers over his mouth and chin. "You're not fucking with me, are you?" It wasn't accusatory, it was… curious.

Sam shook his head, feeling terrified and miserable and totally confused. "No, Dean."

Suddenly Sam felt Dean's hands on his thighs, which meant Dean was kneeling in front of him, and Dean's calloused palms were on either side of Sam's face. "Open."

Sam hesitated, but obeyed, disliking everything that was assaulting him, but he took a deep breath because he'd been through worse. He squinted at the image of Dean that was kneeling in front of him and he found it strange and disconcerting. All the… shapes, as he assumed they were. And colors, though he had no idea what the hell a color really was. Color had always been described as things, and if someone was willing to go deeper, emotions and temperatures. Never… never this.

With a hesitant hand, still dizzy from watching his own body-parts move, Sam reached up and forced himself to watch what his other senses told him were his fingers, touch Dean's face. Lips. Nose. Eyes. Dean's ever-present five o'clock shadow scratching at the bottom of his fingertips. God.

"This must be what it feels like for a sighted person to go blind," Sam said with a harsh laugh as Dean sat there patiently, letting Sam explore his face with touch and sight.

"It's weird to see you looking at me, Sammy, I'll tell you that right now," Dean said with a small shake of his head. "We need to get you to a doctor."

Sam agreed, though he requested a shower first, which Dean offered to help, but Sam declined, instead choosing to shower with his eyes closed so he didn't fall and break his neck while trying to process what the hell everything was by sight.

The water felt good, too, and he couldn't stop stealing little glances of everything, though he honestly just didn't like any of it. It was bright and sharp and strange, and he was disoriented until he put his hand on the wall and could feel what everything was.

He wondered about the irony of it all, the people who lost their sight, were devastated by that loss, and how devastated he felt now by this sudden gain. It almost made him laugh as he stepped out of the shower and pulled the towel from the rack.

As he slipped on a clean shirt and pair of jeans, Sam heard Dean's slightly elevated voice in the room. Likely, Dean had called in reinforcements. Castiel, Sam had to assume. Anything that went wrong, Dean turned to the angel. Dean loved that winged son-of-a-bitch, as Dean so often referred to him, and protested the idea of love, but Sam never questioned those nights when Dean rented two hotel rooms, and never snorted at Dean's excuse that Sammy just needed a break from Dean's bad attitude.

With a sigh, Sam's hands ran over the sink, found his toothbrush and used it. His fingers found the faucet with ease, and then reached up to touch the mirror. He'd never in his life needed a mirror, save for those quiet months when they had the mirrors with little compartments behind them in the houses they rented for longer than a couple of weeks. Those… those were useful. Otherwise they were just cold, polished glass beneath Sam's fingers.

Now…

Sam was terrified to open his eyes. Terrified, to see what he looked like because he already knew. He already knew the shape of his face, length of his hair by his fingers. Knew that Dean was shorter than him, despite how much that little fact pissed Dean off. He knew it by feeling Dean stand next to him.

With trepidation, Sam raised one hand to his mouth, tracing his lips, one pressed to the sink, and he dared to open his eyes. Just a peek. Just a second. His eyelids flickered up, and he wondered if he would ever get used to those shapes. Light he was used to, but not like this. So concentrated and it bounced off of other things, other shapes.

He took a deep breath as he looked at his face, the nose and mouth he recognized with his touch, his hair which… that had to be light brown as he'd heard it described a thousand times, not so bad. Green eyes? Sam had imagined green was a more fierce color. Green had always been described as fresh, bright, vibrant, warm. This was just sort of… dim.

So this was him, huh? He liked himself better by touch.

Turning around, forcing himself to keep his eyes open, he groped for the door handle and pushed into the room. He tried not to wince at the barrage of shapes, and it took him a moment to recognize Dean by memory, though it was getting a little easier.

Ten steps to his bed, he counted in his head like he always did, without even really thinking about it. He felt for the edge, because he even though he'd once had depth perception explained to him, it wasn't a concept he understood. He turned to face Dean, his eyes still open. There was a thing, similar to Dean's shape, similar in colors, but not the same at all, really.

"Cas?" Sam asked, his voice hesitant.

"Hello Sam," Cas said, and Sam let out a breath of relief at hearing that gruff, gravelly voice of his.

Sam flinched as Cas stepped forward to him, still not used to the way the shapes and colors and things sort of moved, were in one place, far off, then suddenly occupying all of his visual space.

Sam swallowed hard and reached up, hesitantly because the Angel wasn't fond of being touched by anyone but Dean. He'd made special allowances for Sam, though, and put his hand on Cas's shoulder.

Cas, in return, put his fingers on Sam's forehead, a very familiar sensation Sam had experienced a number of times, as Cas was always patching up Sam and Dean. He could feel Cas inside of his head, sort of rummaging around and then, as fast as he'd appeared, he was gone, back to Dean's side and Sam was standing there holding the wall to keep oriented.

"Well?" Dean demanded. "Any idea what the hell is going on?"

Sam found it fascinating to watch what he believed to be Dean's mouth move with the sound of his voice coming out of it. The shapes his face made were strange, comical almost, and if Sam wasn't so freaked out he would have laughed.

"It seems the damage that occurred during Sam's birth have been reversed," Castiel said simply.

"But you said you couldn't heal him," Dean blurted, and despite not really understanding the whole process, Sam's eyes snapped to Dean's face.

"What do you mean by that?"

Dean stuttered for a minute, and then gave up trying to cover his ass. "I asked him if he could heal you," he confessed. "Hell, Sammy, we'd been through enough and we had this damn angel that could magically put shit back together. I had to check."

Sam took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Now was not the time to be angry or offended. Dean had always acted in what he thought was Sam's best interest. Dean had never patronized him, babied him, or treated him less. If a sighted person could do it, Dean fully expected Sam to figure out how to do it, too. Even drive, though the three times Sam had tried it, it hadn't ended well and Dean chalked it up to something Sam could do, but shouldn't.

Sam rubbed his face, pinching the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, going back into the familiar sightless world that he so missed right then. "Someone please tell me what's going on."

"This has demon written all over it," Dean said.

"Demon? Giving a blind man sight has demon written all over it?" Sam asked with a disbelieving snort.

"Oh come on, Sammy," Dean said, sounding as frustrated as Sam felt. "Look at you, man. You're… you're blind. You're as fucking blind as I would be if someone had ripped my eyes out right now. You have no idea what you're looking at."

Sam frowned, opening his eyes and stared at the shape of Dean. His big brother was right, of course. I mean, he'd been thinking the same thing in the shower, but it was frustrating to feel so incapacitated. The only real bonus was, he could close his eyes and go back to that world. He didn't have to stay sighted if he didn't want to. A sighted person struck blind didn't have that option.

"Taking him to a physician would raise a lot of questions that you cannot answer," Cas said, cutting into the boys' small argument. "I agree with Dean that this is likely the work of a demon over an angel. I did assess the damage, and being that it was caused by a natural process, I would not have been able to reverse it. More than likely a demon is responsible for this. But why, I couldn't tell you. I will do my own research, and you can continue yours."

Without so much as a by-your-leave, Cas had gone and Dean and Sam were alone. With a frustrated groan, Sam reached back, found the bed and flopped down. He laid his head back on the pillows, his fingers still pressed into his eyes, and he gave a small laugh.

"You know, when I was little, I always used to imagine what it would be like to see. I mean, I had all these descriptions. All these things I could feel and taste and touch and hear, but my brain could never wrap around the idea of sight."

Sam felt the bed depress down next to him and Dean's hand touched him, an unconscious habit Dean did, just letting Sam know he was that close to him. "Look man, we'll figure this out. Hell, if you hate it and can't live with it, you could always get a good face-full of Cas. I mean, there's the small risk that it'll kill you, and also hurt like a son of a bitch, but you won't have demons or angels fucking with your eyes again after that."

Sam couldn't help the chuckle and he sat up, eyes still closed. He reached out, found Dean's shoulder and squeezed it. "Thanks."

"Yeah."

Sam was silent again as the questions festered in him. "Do you think I should be? You know? Sighted? Is this being healed? Or is it being crippled?" They just sort of poured from his lips.

"I don't know, man," Dean said with a sigh, and Sam felt him shift uncomfortably. "I guess it could be something you learn to live with. You know, just like anyone who suffers a massive change in their lives. You'll learn to read and tell colors by sight and be able to pick me out of a lineup one day."

"Or I could go back to being blind."

"Yeah, that is an option. Unless this is some sort of fucked up demon magic that prevents you from ever losing your sight again, there are ways."

Sam nodded, fluttered his eyelids open and looked at Dean. He wondered if there was a way to get used to it. "Really, all I want to know is who did this, and why."

"Me too, Sammy," Dean said in that voice that read you don't fuck with the Winchester siblings. You just… didn't. Sam knew that they'd just need a day or two to adjust, and then they'd be on the case. They'd be on the case, and they'd figure it out and then they'd… fix it. Or live with it. Or whatever. He didn't need to know right then. All he wanted were answers.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N- I realized I didn't mention at the beginning of this story that the misspelling in the title was intentional. You'll see why in this chapter. :)** Chapter 2

It was all teeth, lips, tongue and hands. All over, every inch, and he gasped as his Angel touched him _there_, and then he laughed because for some reason, with Cas, he always laughed. The Angel liked it, the Angel touched something in his mind that made Dean laugh. Dean almost never laughed.

His hand shot out, grasping for the front of the trench coat, but met empty air, and then a flat, over-used hotel pillow. The image before him faded. The lips and teeth and tongue were gone. Then the hands. The threadbare blanket was itchy against his naked chest and he heaved a sigh.

He could hear the quiet shifting sound in the corner of the room before he opened his eyes and saw the light from Sam's laptop, and knew he was in full-on research mode. They'd spent the day mostly trying to keep from freaking out, eventually Dean insisting that Sam get very drunk and stay put because every time Sammy tried to move around he'd fall.

The irony was killing Dean, and he was punched more than once for laughing when he realized that Sam was stumbling and falling because he could see, and a few times punching Sam because Sam seemed to find the movement of Dean's face when he talked hilarious.

He had hoped that Sammy would eventually go to bed, but once the booze had worn off and Dean had passed out face-down on the springy hotel mattress, it was obvious the younger Winchester decided work was more important.

"You looking at porn?" Dean asked, rubbing his eyes and peering at the clock, dismayed to find it was four-thirty in the morning.

"Funny," Sam said in his sassy-research tone.

Dean rose, cracked his back, twisting his bent arms back and forth, and then he stumbled across the carpet to the small table where Sam sat. The younger Winchester had his hands on his Braille display, his eyes firmly clamped shut as he navigated a website that Dean couldn't see from the angle he was sitting.

"I keep staring at it, trying to make sense of it," Sam said, pressing his fingers to his eyelids. "It's like… Actually I don't know what it's like. It doesn't make any sense."

"Yeah," Dean said, and all of the humor about the situation deflated because he could, at least a little, understand how goddamn hard this was on Sammy. "Look, why don't I take over for a while and you can get some sleep."

"There's no way in hell I'm going to be able to sleep with all this crap in my head," Sam said. He sat back, rubbed his eyes again and blinked them open. There was that look again on his face, that confused, terrified look as his brain tried to process all the shapes and colors that his eyes could suddenly see.

"What about me? Do I still look like a total freak?"

"You look exactly like you've always looked," Sam said, his fingers grabbing out for Dean's scar, just for a moment. "… like a bitch."

"Dick," Dean corrected. "You're the little bitch."

Sam snorted and didn't protest as Dean grabbed the laptop away from Sam and turned the screen so he could see it. Dean's fingers ghosted along the sentence Sam had been reading, his eyes finding it on the screen. Dean could read Braille for about as long as Sammy. It was something John had done, some excuse to keep himself exempt from doing any of those fatherly things—like reading his youngest a bedtime story. He'd ordered all the little Dr. Seuss and Roald Dahl books in Braille. So really, when Sammy's little hand tugged at his brother's shirt and asked for a bedtime story, Dean only had one choice. Dean never, ever, told Sammy no.

"Devi?" Dean asked after a moment. His fingers brushed across the bumps, making sure that his eyes and hands were reading it right. "What the hell is a Devi."

"It's a healer, sort of," Sam said. He had his face toward Dean, his eyes closed. He was still having trouble watching Dean speak. The movement was distracting, chaotic, he'd said when Dean demanded to know why Sammy wasn't trying to cope a little better. "Actually, a Devi is a goddess, an embodiment of a god or goddesses' powers from the Hindi pantheon," Sam continued. "However they're also divine humans, healers. There have been reports of things—like this—" he gestured at his still-closed eyes, "in India even today."

Dean rubbed his fingers around his mouth and chin and sat back, looking at the screen. It was covered in Sanskrit writing, those bright blue and yellow and gold pictures of the Hindi pantheon covering the sides. It was a shitty webpage, the text an ugly sort of gold on brown, and the sentence structure was crappy. "Okay so… so you think one of these Devi things have something to do with your sight returning. Or well… existing. Or whatever?"

Sam let out a sigh and shrugged. "I don't know. Honestly, it's the first thing I came across that made any sense. Obviously the Angels didn't do it, and maybe it was a Demon, but if it was, likely they had outside help. From the other websites I checked," Sam said—other meaning the ones the Hunters used, with actual information instead of religious and urban legend— "it looks like you can get a Devi to perform a favor with either a soul or blood sacrifice." Like a Demon, was the unspoken rest of the sentence.

"So how do we find one? Or track who might have done this?" Dean asked.

"I thought maybe you could ask your boyfriend—"

"Four AM is not a wise time to be an ass, Sammy," Dean warned.

Sam grinned regardless. "—to track down any potential information on where we might find one. We know that the god population was fairly devastated by Lucifer, so there aren't that many left. The Devi's powers derive from the powers of their pantheon, so if we can track down a god, we might be able to find the healer responsible."

"If that's what it was," Dean amended.

"Exactly."

Dean pushed the laptop back to Sam and rubbed his face. "Okay well, mind if I get a little more shut-eye before I call Cas down? I have to have at least four hours before I can deal with his shit."

"Yeah, I mean, not much we can do at four AM," Sam agreed. Grateful for the reprieve, Dean got up and stumbled back to the bed, falling face-down with a groan. "I did check your internet history though," Sam called as Dean's eyes began to slip closed. "Is that normal people porn, or just yours?"

Dean grinned into the pillow and shook his head. "Oh Sammy, just you wait until your brain figures this out. Just you wait."

qp

Dean slept til noon. Sam wanted to wake him, irritated that Dean seemed to be treating this like it was no big deal, but Sam was scared. Not just of the complete chaos that was colors and shapes and visual movement, but by the fact that stuff like this didn't just happen. Any time the boys were affected by anything weird, it was bad. It was generally send-your-soul-to-hell sort of bad, and Sam was damn tired.

They'd been fighting for so long, and things had just started to settle down a little. He wanted to wake Dean, but the only response he got from the elder Winchester when Sam purposefully bumped up against the bed repeatedly was a groan and a pillow thrown at him.

Finally, tired of sitting there listening to his brother snore, Sam grabbed his sunglasses, grabbed his cane, and left. They'd been at that particular motel for two weeks now in their previous demon hunt, so he was familiar enough with the area to walk down to the small park, a sidewalk café, and to the shores of the small beach that, oddly, was always empty.

The sunglasses, he discovered, weren't effective in shutting anything out, but the did take the edge off the violent assault of color that Sam was sure he'd never get used to. It was all so chaotic. Just this never ending mass of brightness and sharpness that never stayed in one place. Things constantly occupying his field of vision, and he didn't quite get depth perception or movement well enough to know that something getting larger and larger, encompassing his whole space, was something coming at him, or near him. He had seen Dean's fist flying at him, but he hadn't understood it until it made contact and that, above anything else, scared the shit out of him.

It was a bright day, though, sunny and warm, and the gentle breeze felt good on his skin as he started up the sidewalk, counting his steps, letting his cane guide him because he still had no idea what anything was.

He passed the café, staring at the colors and shapes of the things he recognized by smell and how many steps to took to get to the front gate. The sights of everything were too much though, and his stomach churned.

He went forward again, his cane making contact with things he knew were small obstacles and he was frustrated that he didn't know if they were things he could step through, step on… anything. He jammed his eyes closed, retreating into the comfort of the darkness.

He walked through the grass, fifteen steps from the boardwalk, twenty steps from the beach sand. There was a bench somewhere. His cane made contact with something hard and he opened his eyes. A thing in front of him, and he recognized one of the shapes to be a person—he at figured that much out at least.

His hand reached out to confirm it was a bench and he let out a relieved sigh. "Mind if I sit."

"Not at all, Sam."

Oh he recognized that voice, though, and his heart twisted so hard he thought he might pass out. That drawling voice, words slithering from the lips as hands once slithered up his body and then suddenly he had just gone, and Sam was alone, and god he had hated him.

"Balthazar."

Sam hesitated, not sure he wanted to take a seat. It wasn't just the fucking him and leaving him part that pissed Sam off, either. It was the shit Balthazar had put them through during the war with Raphael, and the fact that in the end, Balthazar had just left Cas, left them, to clean up the mess. It hurt still. A lot.

He sat anyway. His hand darted out to guide himself down on the bench, still unsure of himself, and his eyes were closed because he didn't think he was ready to see what Balthazar actually looked like.

"Word on Angel radio is that something hurt you," he said quietly. Sam heard him shift and felt that sort of warmth that only came from the Angels as he drew closer to the Winchester. "You seem… intact."

Sam clenched his jaw, trying to control his sudden fury, torn between wanting to jam an Angel Knife right through Balthazar's chin, ending the son of a bitch, and wanting to just grab him and kiss him and make him beg for Sam to take him back. Of course, Angels didn't beg. Ever.

"We're handling it. Cas is on the case."

"Cas," Balthazar said with a slight snort. "Right. Yes, I see. He didn't tell me."

"Last time I checked, the two of you weren't exactly on the best of terms," Sam said. He let his fingers trail up and down his cane, taking comfort in the tactile familiarity. He let his eyes ghost open gently and he tried to put vision with the sounds of the waves that lay straight ahead. That sight wasn't so bad, actually. Movement in the corner of his eye startled him, though, because he was convinced any and every movement was going to hit him.

He stuck out his hand and found Bathazar's chest. The Angel made a small noise in the back of his throat and closed his hand around Sam's wrist. "Sam."

"Don't."

Balthazar shuffled closer, his thigh now against Sam's thigh. "Sam," he said, more insistent.

Sam turned to him sharply, his eyes open, and took in the thing sitting before him. It was… he didn't know what it was. It was foreign and different. He didn't understand it, though when he closed his eyes he remembered what that face felt like under his fingers. The curve of his nose, that sort of sharp way his mouth turned when he smiled. The fuzzy brows and that hair… oh…

Sam flinched when Balthazar reached his hand up for his face, pulling back slightly, but Balthazar held him in place, firmly, as only an Angel could do. Sam jammed his eyes shut as he felt Balthazar's fingers curve around the bridge of the glasses and tugged them off his face.

"Open your eyes," the Angel commanded.

"No."

Balthazar released his wrist and Sam felt those impossibly warm hands cup his face. Thumbs stroked his cheeks on either side of his nose and he could feel the Angel's unnecessary breath, the air he used to make his vessel speak, ghost over his face. "Open them."

"I can't," Sam said, not lying. It felt like some outside force was keeping them glued shit. Fear, probably, because he just couldn't deal with this right now.

"Can you see, Sam?"

Sam laughed, startling the Angel, his shoulders shaking with bitter mirth. "Define see, Balthazar."

"Open your eyes, Sam!"

He did. His eyelids fluttered upward and he flinched at the Angel's face so damn close to his. It was… it different. Not like Dean's, not like Castiel's. It was… interesting. Sam's hand rose up, involuntarily, and he let his fingers tell his brain what his eyes could not. Cheeks, chin, nose, eyes, hair. That hair, same, soft curls threading around his fingers. It was a nice color—whatever that color was. He'd never asked, it had never mattered to a blind man.

"What happened?"

Sam shrugged and blinked rapidly, disliking the sensation, but he couldn't help it. "I don't know. I woke up like this… incapacitated. Devastated by sight. Dean thinks it's funny, of course."

"Of course he does," Balthazar said, just a hint of contempt in his voice. "And Castiel has obviously been down to see you."

"Um, yeah," Sam said with a sigh, "though fat lot of good that did. He said Angels couldn't heal what was a natural process."

"He's right," the Angel replied.

"So far we think it's a demon, having worked with a Devi to incapacitate me. Distract us, I guess."

"Crowley?" Balthazar offered.

Sam quirked a smile. "Probably. Only thing that would make sense, don't you think?"

Balthazar's face shifted and Sam let his fingers confirm that the Angel was smiling. It wasn't half-bad looking.

"Why are you here?" Sam asked.

"I heard on Angel radio that something happened to you."

Sam gave a derisive snort and let his eyes slip closed again. "Since when do you care? When have you ever actually cared?"

There was a long silence and Balthazar had let Sam go, giving him some space. Sam thought maybe the Angel had gone, but he reached out and touched the edge of Balthazar's jeans.

"Since the dawn of time," came the answer. "I'm going to see what I can come up with. As much as I love our little Angel of Thursday, I'm not sure I want this resting solely in his hands."

Sam wanted to say no. And he also wanted to say thanks. And maybe fuck you, too, because the dawn of time? Who did Balthazar think he was kidding? But there was that sound of fluttering, wings, and the Angel had gone, leaving Sam alone on the bench. He sat back, his eyes still closed and he listened. Listened to the breeze and the birds. To the waves, and he even heard Dean approach, his footfalls heavy and persistent and obviously pissed that Sam had taken off, but Sam didn't really care about Dean's ire at the moment.

He heard the subtle shift of Dean's leather jacket shift as his older brother took a seat. A hand reached out to squeeze his shoulder, their quiet way of letting each other know one was nearby.

"Any word from Cas?"

"He popped in for a few minutes," Dean said, sexsexsexsexsex dripping from that short phrase. "He said he's still looking into it."

Sam smiled just a little and shifted so his leg was touching Dean's. He needed that grounding right now, the feeling of chaos and sight and the world overwhelming him. "Well we have more help."

He could practically feel Dean's eyebrow quirk and he heard his brother quietly clear his throat. "More help?"

"Balthazar," Sam said.

The silence hanging in the air was painful because Dean knew, and Dean remembered Sammy's pain. Dean was there when Sammy drank himself near to death after the Angel had just left him. Dean was there cleaning up the mess when Balthazar had sent them into an alternate dimension, nearly getting them both killed, and then just took off without even so much as a thank you, or an I'm sorry for ripping our heart out and eating it in front of you Sam.

Dean also knew that Sam, despite it all, still loved that winged dickhead, and Dean hated it, but he didn't blame Sammy because it wasn't like he and Cas had the best relationship either. Cas, who had nearly killed Dean a few times, and never hesitated to remind Dean how powerful he was. Cas who was only there sometimes, and never when Dean really needed him. Winchester curse, both brothers could feel that.

"He didn't say where he was going or why," Sam finally said, breaking the silence. "I guess… he'll probably contact Cas."

"Oh he's gonna love that," Dean snarked. He reached out and out his hand over Sam's. "Anyway, Cas showed me a potential lead, so we're checked out. Ready to hit the road."

Sam sighed and opened his eyes, looking out at the ocean again. "What color is that? Blue? Or is it… different?"

"That's blue," Dean said. "Ocean blue, sky blue. Sandy yellow."

Sam gave a nod and then smiled at his brother, chuckling at the ridiculous sight of Dean's sort of awkward half-smile back. "It's kind of nice looking, isn't it?"

The awkwardness melted off of Dean's face and was replaced by something Sam hadn't seen yet… but he liked it. He liked that Dean face. "Yeah. Yeah, it kind of is."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N- So I'm absolutely addicted to this story. It's kind of ridiculous. I'm really shaky about my Sam characterization though, so any feedback is muchly appreciated. Thanks! Chapter 3

The moment they pulled into the parking lot, Sam knew that wherever they were wasn't their usual type of run-down motel. For one- the parking lot was way too long, and two- the moment they stepped into the lobby—which was usually some glass pane where a cigarette and whiskey saturated man with no teeth sat and took cash only—was immense and it echoed. They never stayed in places with lobbies that echoed.

The place was bright, bright to the point of making Sam want to throw up. The light source came from individual specks all over the damn place, hanging from the walls and the roof and the color, he didn't ask, but it was hideous.

He had his sunglasses on to try and mute it, but it reached the point where he just jammed his eyes shut and grabbed Dean's shoulder as they crossed the tiled floors.

Now, this was new, because though Sam occasionally needed a guide in new places, he rarely used one physically. It was typically an elbow to elbow situation, or Dean walking next to Sam, Sam navigating with his cane while Dean barked out the occasional direction.

"What's up?" Dean asked, shrugging off Sam's hand.

"This place is making my head spin," Sam complained, pinching his nose under the glasses.

"Dude, quit being a little bitch."

That stung, but it wasn't as though Sam didn't expect the reply. He just… he just sort of wished that Dean would give him a little reprieve. Sam could do things a lot of sighted people couldn't. He never considered his lack of vision a disability. He wasn't crippled. But now… now he felt disabled. Now his brain was working in overdrive to process things, and yeah, he was sort of getting better at understanding facial features. It took them two days to reach their destination and Sam was now able to recognize the difference between a smile and a frown. He could reach for the door handle on the Impala by sight instead of touch, and he could tell the color black from white. But that was it. He couldn't tell the difference between a chair and a restaurant booth. Words… that was a world he'd never understand. Just a jumble of shapes in colors contrasting the paper they were printed on. And people. God. What a bunch of… weird shapes and strange expressions that Sam did not understand, nor did he want to. The very idea that his face looked like that freaked him out, in all honesty.

So yeah, he was hoping Dean might cut him a break just this once. He didn't, of course, because he was Dean and he just didn't cut anyone breaks. Especially Sam. Not now. Not after Sam had brought back Lucifer, become the devil, or returned without a soul. Yeah. Not Sam.

Dean broke away from Sam and when Sam tried to catch him, he missed by what felt like a mile. He watched as his hand groped through the air, met with nothing, and fell back down. "Asshole," Sam said, took a few strides forward and thwacked Dean on the side of his calf with his cane. Sam knew it stung, Dean had stolen his cane numerous times and left welts on Sam's legs for the hell out of it, so he smirked.

Dean paused mid-step, shook his head, and then kept walking to the counter. Sam's cane met resistance, and he realized the giant thing with the mess of a person standing behind it must be the counter, so he folded up his cane, confirmed the counter-top with his fingers, and then waited as Dean checked them in.

"Two rooms," Dean said, which made Sam frown, but he continued without missing a beat, "under Dean Winchester."

Sam sputtered, his eyes going wide, eyebrows flying up to his hairline. "Dean," he said under his breath.

"Shut up, Sammy," Dean muttered back. He handed over a credit card, a few keys were typed on the computer, and then four keys were passed over.

"The rooms are adjoining as you requested," the person, who was a woman Sam realized by the sound of her voice, said. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to call down and we'll send anything up."

Sam heard the tone, the pity tone, the 'we'll accommodate you, you poor blind man' tone because of his glasses and cane. For the first time he wanted to stare the woman in the eye and scream at her for making assumptions. But as Sam turned and tripped over a low table with a plant on it because his eyes hadn't been able to tell his brain that it was something three-dimensional and tall and it couldn't be walked on or walked through, he remembered he was blind.

None of that really mattered though, because Dean had evidently lost his goddamn mind, checking into a hotel under his real name. And where the hell had he gotten a credit card for Dean Winchester, Sam wondered as he followed Dean down the hall. His cane swished, telling him where the low tables and room service trays lay, and he felt comfortable and satisfied.

Dean was just a few steps ahead, Sam able to follow him okay by sight, and they finally made it to the room. "We can set this shit up in yours," Dean said in his gruff tone, shoving the laptop bag at Sam and opening the door.

It was expansive. Even without a concept of depth perception, Sam could tell that. The room sounded hollow and the air came from a vent in the ceiling rather than one of those wonky wall-units that never worked properly. And it smelled nice. It smelled clean and fresh, like the sheets and blankets had been changed on a regular basis, and there wouldn't be grime on the bathroom floors.

Sam's hand reached out and he went through the room, letting his fingers tell his eyes what everything was. A sofa, a TV, table, two beds, a large window overlooking the city, and a few comfortable chairs that were definitely not their usual motel fare.

"What are you doing, exactly?" Sam finally asked, turning to his brother. He'd counted the steps, filed the memory away, and folded up his cane. "Dean Winchester? Are you insane."

"Don't be a little bitch, Sammy," Dean snarked in his voice that told Sam more than just Sam's question was bothering his big brother.

Sam put his things on the second bed and moved forward, cautiously, dragging one foot in front of the other until his hand made contact with Dean's shoulder. "What the hell is going on?"

"Nothing, Sam," Dean said and brushed Sam away. Dean didn't do that very often.

"You do realize that our names are flagged, right? We're going to have the feds on our asses in a matter of hours."

"No Sammy, we're not," Dean retorted, and now he just sounded kind of tired. "I wanted a break, and the feds stopped giving a shit two years ago. I just wanted… I just wanted a break, okay?"

Sam took a step back and held up his hand in surrender. "Okay. Whatever you say, man."

"What, you don't believe me?" Dean's voice rose, accusatory, ready to pick a fight.

"I'm saying you're acting weird, Dean. You're angry over something, I don't know what, and I can't figure it out. I don't have time for your temper tantrum bullshit because I'm busy trying to relearn how to function and try to figure out what the hell happened to me." Sam didn't give him a moment to answer. He closed his eyes, back to his comfort zone, found his laptop and took it to the table.

He began to plug it in, grabbed the Braille reader and he heard Dean sigh. "What?" he demanded.

"Braille?"

Sam clenched his jaw and rolled his now-working eyes to his brother. He didn't know what the expression on Dean's face was, but he figured it wasn't anything nice. "Yes, Dean. Braille. Because even though I can see now, I can't read. If this sticks, this whole sighted thing, I'm going to have to learn how to read. Like a goddamn five year old."

Sam didn't need to see Dean's jaw shut tightly to know it had. He put the braille display on the laptop and switched it all on. Dean mumbled something about a shower, and then Sam went to work.

Of course, even the hunter websites had very little on the Devi. Occasional lore, myth, how they appeared to humans, what types of sacrifices they preferred. They could be staked, just like any of the other gods, but Sam wondered if that was actually the answer. Maybe he could just bargain with it, to be put back the way he was. If… that was what he wanted.

Right now, staring at the jumbled mess on the laptop, only able to tell what anything said or was by the bumps pulsing under his fingers, Sam did want things to go back the way they were. Dean was acting like an ass—for whatever reason—Sam felt lost and alone. Balthazar was back, and that was just a whole goddamn can of worms Sam was not ready to open, and who the hell knew where Cas was. And he still had no idea why this had been done. What was the point? It certainly wasn't a gift, at least not to Sam.

He needed a drink, and he didn't want to drink with Dean in the mood his brother was currently in. He grabbed his glasses from the table and his cane as Dean came out of the shower.

"The hell you going?" Dean asked.

"Downstairs. Going to take a walk, maybe grab a drink," Sam said in the tone that read, 'and no you're not invited.'

"Taking your cane?" Dean asked.

Sam pursed his lips and rolled his head around to stare at his brother through the dark shades. "Yes, Dean. Yes, I'm going to take my cane. And my glasses. And I'm going to read the braille plaques on the walls for the bathroom and the floor numbers. I'm going to touch the bar stool so I know where to sit. I'm going to tell the guy behind the bar to just give me their house tap because I can't read the menu. What is your goddamn problem?!"

"My problem?" Dean asked, and Sam heard that tone and oh he knew it was coming now. "My problem? You're treating this like you've lost a fucking limb, Sammy! Like you've been cursed. You've been given your sight back and you're not even trying to see things! I mean Jesus, Sam, how often does this happen?"

"I didn't ask for this to happen!" Sam said, and he could feel the floodgates opening, his emotions pouring out, those feelings he just really hadn't wanted to deal with. "I was fine! I was fine, Dean! And you!" He took rapid steps toward Dean and grabbed him by his shirt front. He backed his brother up, his hand feeling for the wall and when his fingers touched it, he slammed Dean hard against it. Not too hard, but enough to make his point. "I wasn't broken, I didn't need to be fixed. I was fine, Dean."

"Sammy, you can see," Dean said, his voice low and hurt. "You can see and it's like you don't care. You got one of your senses back, and that never happens, and you don't seem to give a shit."

Sam let his hand fall from Dean's front, slow and steady as his heart thudded hard in his ears. Dean was still talking but Sam couldn't hear him over the sudden realization and he held his hand up for his brother to stop. "Did you do this?"

"Sam," Dean said, sounding affronted.

Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. He needed to read Dean his way, by voice, by tone. "Did. You. Do. This."

There was a long pause, and then he said, "No, but I don't hate the thing that did."

He was telling the truth. Sam could always tell, and Dean was telling the truth, and it sucked. Sam took another step back and reached for his cane. He flicked it open and stood there, eyes shut, heart thumping, aching because of all people, Dean didn't get it. Of all people…

"You always told me I was whole. That my sight didn't matter. You taught me to write, and to run and to fucking drive. I can walk alone through unfamiliar streets with a cane and counted steps because of you. I've killed demons, I've been to hell and back, and never once… not until now… have I actually ever stumbled. Of all people, to know you think I'm broken..."

"I've never said you were broken," Dean hissed, and it was his turn to grab Sam by the front of his shirt. "I don't care if you're blind, deaf and mute, you son of a bitch. But you don't even care that maybe this was done in your best interest. Maybe you can live an easier life. Maybe it isn't so fucking bad, but you're too busy feeling sorry for yourself to try." He shoved Sam away, harder than Sam had shoved him, and then he was gone.

The door to their adjoining room slammed shut and Sam heard the lock click. He sighed, ran his hand back through his hair and thought, 'fuck him.' Because really, fuck him. Dean may have spent his life pushing Sam to be better than the world thought he was going to be, but Dean never actually bothered to try and see what life was like for Sam.

And Sam? He might have been a genius, probably thanks to the demon blood, and he was strong, for the same damn reason, but he had to work twice as hard to get the same results but he'd done it. He'd done it, and Dean thought Sam could just stop. Just give it up, everything he'd done to get to where he was, and just exist like everyone else.

He let his hand trail along the wall as he made his way from memory back down to the lobby. He'd lost count, something he almost never did, but whatever, he was able to tell the difference between hallway and open space now, though processing much else just wasn't happening.

He found his way back to the desk and said, "Hello?" though he knew someone was standing there. With the cane and the glasses and his inability to actually see what he was seeing, it was easier to just be blind.

"How can I help you, sir?" It was that same woman from before.

"Is there a bar around here?" Sam asked. "I could really use a drink."

"Yeah it's right over…" she started to point and then gave an embarrassed laugh. "Sorry I uh... I don't um… do you need me to uh… walk? You there?"

"Just directions is fine," Sam said with a smile.

"Uh yeah okay um…"

"Hands of a clock," Sam said. "Pretend you're the twelve."

She gave another laugh, more relaxed this time. "Okay well um, then straight at five o'clock," she said, her voice hesitant but no longer terrified. "The hostess there can direct you to the bar."

Sam smiled again, irritated inside but pleasant outside, and he turned. His can swished along the polished floor as he headed for five o'clock and he noticed immediately the décor and temperature difference. The bar was darker, warmer, not so hard on the eyes. There was a person standing behind a thing, a hostess desk, Sam confirmed with his hands. "Bar?"

"Directly to your left," said the host, man, Sam heard in the voice, bored, probably knew a few blind people.

Sam gave a nod and walked up and saw only one other person there. He found a bar-stool with his hands, folded his cane up on the bar top and removed his glasses. Everything behind the bar was… bright. Shiny, he'd later learn the word, that was shiny. Lighted mirror behind rows upon rows of liquor bottles, lit up to make the display. It was supposed to be pretty but Sam found it visually offensive.

He rubbed at his eyes and sighed.

"You're going to rip them out of your head if you keep on that path." Oh he knew that voice. "Unless that's what you want, of course."

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked. He was met with silence as the bartender showed up, and he noticed movement out of the corner of his vision. He could smell and feel Balthazar taking the seat next to him, though he didn't acknowledge him.

"What can I get for you?"

Sam shifted the white cane, and dared a glance at the bartender who was staring openly. Sam guessed that the expression on the man's face was discomfort, and he almost wanted to laugh. "Just a beer. Whatever your most popular lager is."

"And I'll have a vodka tonic, splash of grapefruit, and throw a cherry in it for fun. I'm rather fond of the way cherries taste," Balthazar all-but purred almost directly in Sam's ear.

Sam shifted away slightly and waited until his drink was in front of him. He tried to grab it, just using his eyes, but missed and gave up, running his hands along the top of the counter until they made contact with the cold glass.

"Same tab?"

"No," said Sam.

While Balthazar said at the same moment, "Yes."

"What do you want?" Sam demanded again. "And don't tell me it's because you care, because you have never given an actual shit about me. You show up when you want something, when you need me and Dean to run a play, to create a diversion so you can go fuck around with Cas's shit, you show up when you're in trouble, when you need protection, but when I need you?"

"I've been there," Balthazar said very quietly. He lifted the glass to his lips and took a long drink. "When you've really needed me—and let's face it Sam, you don't really need anyone most of the time—I've been there."

Sam winced and shook his head, angry and hurt and a wishing a little that he had the Angel blade in his jacket pocket. "So when I was lying on the ground, broken and bleeding, torn apart from the inside out, where were you?"

"Sam—"

"No," Sam snapped, "because I'm right and you know it. And believe me, if you didn't want to see me suffer, I have a laundry list of moments that you could have been there. But you weren't. So what. Do. You. Want."

There was a long silence and Sam watched the way Balthazar finished his drink. He found it fascinating the way Balthazar moved. His expressions, his face softer than Castiel or Dean's. The way his fingers curled around what Sam knew from logistics was the glass. The way the light hit the liquid inside of it, and the way it changed as Balthazar drank it.

Sam reached out and just for a moment, touched Balthazar's cheek while he was drinking. Feeling the sensations, familiar to him, while his eyes told his brain that he was seeing these things, too.

"I'm not here to try and force you to believe the truth," the Angel said, and put his hand on top of Sam's when the younger Winchester opened his mouth to argue. "You've relied on yourself, you've been pushed by your brother, by your father, by your very existence to a level that no human being has accomplished. And whether you want to believe it or not, those laundry list moments, you didn't need me, and if I'd been there, there's a good chance you may have given up. You may have broken and despite Lucifer, despite the apocalypse, despite all of it, you have a greater purpose."

"Fuck you. Fuck Angels, and your destiny," Sam spat.

Balthazar threw his head back and laughed, and god Sam hated how much he missed that sound. It wasn't as though Balthazar had been around a lot, but it had been enough to sear a hand-print on Sam's soul, and that was truly and actually crippling.

He looked over at Balthazar again, and watched the Angel touch his own mouth with his fingers. He found the gesture… interesting. Enticing. Sam licked his lips and refused to admit it, though, because fuck this Angel.

"Do you have any new information?"

"I believe so," Balthazar said quietly. "I believe my own baby brother is upstairs in your brother's room relaying said information. Or will be, when they've finished."

Sam shook his head, but secretly he was glad, because Dean really just needed a good fucking right now. He was wound up and disappointed that ultimately Sam did function better blind. In truth, as much as he didn't want to admit it, Sam understood. Dean didn't think he was broken, but Dean had lived his entire life for Sam—that was the harsh reality—and he hoped that if Sam was what most people considered whole, he'd be happy.

"Let's give them ten minutes," Sam said.

They gave them twenty.

Sam was tired, tired of trying to see things and make sense of them, trying to get Dean to understand how he was feeling and why he couldn't just drop his cane and drop the braille and drop having to tell what the hell a towel was without touching it, and he was tired because he wasn't actually sure what he wanted.

His hand rested on Balthazar's shoulder, an unspoken invitation by the Angel when they'd left the bar, and Sam had taken it. He let his eyes rest closed, his cane in front of him but a lazy hold and they made it to the room.

Sam put the keycard in the door and opened it, hoping that if Cas and Dean were naked and doing, whatever, they were in Dean's room. Sam wasn't sure he ever wanted to see that, not between those two. Not ever.

Cas and Dean were both there, and Sam wondered if the look on Dean's face was fatigue. He dropped his cane on the table near the hotel door and walked into the room. Same routine, counted steps, touched the bed, and sat.

"We've found a Devi here in the city," Cas began. He liked to pace when he talked, and it never bothered Sam until he had to watch it. It made him dizzy and being tired, the vertigo was worse than before.

"Okay," Sam said. "The one who did this?"

"I cannot be sure," Castiel said.

"So what, we just gank this Devi thing and everything goes back to the way it was? Sam's blind, Devi's dead, we can move on with our lives?" Dean asked, and Sam could hear the twinge of hurt in his voice.

"Sorry boys, but ganking a Devi isn't as easy as it sounds, not to mention somewhat pointless since killing the creature won't reverse anything," Balthazar said. He passed by Sam and touched him, just briefly, on the shoulder. Sam hated himself for loving it.

"So how do we fix Sam?"

Sam heard it, Dean was trying to make amends. He obviously felt guilty for making Sam feel like he'd always thought he was broken. Sam knew perfectly well Dean didn't feel that way. Not really.

"You could always ask the Devi," Balthazar said in that way that spoke volumes. 'You idiot humans, who never think things through and end all of your questions with a stake through the heart.' Well, it was true, that's generally how the Winchester boys worked.

"What, exactly, are we going to be dealing with, here?" Sam asked, finally speaking up. "I mean, obviously this Devi isn't all fluffy puppies, since it requires blood or soul sacrifices."

"Yeah, we've met some of those Hindi sons-of-bitches and they weren't exactly the friendly shake your hand and do you favors type," Dean cut in.

"We need to establish whether or not a Devi is responsible for Sam's current condition. Once we do that, we may be able to track the one who did it, if not this one, than the other. There aren't many," Castiel said, still pacing. "Once we determine that, we can offer the Devi a trade or sacrifice if willing, and learn who did this, why, and if Sam requests it, how to reverse it."

"Well there are plenty of ways to make a man go blind," Balthazar said. He touched Sam again, ghosting his fingers over Sam's eyelids and he smiled. It was another expression Sam found… appealing. Damn him. "What we really need to know is who did this, and why."

"The Devi is currently behind a rash of miracle healings at a church compound six miles east of the city," Castiel said. "I recommend breaking into the compound. You can use the ruse of Sam's blindness for a healing request. Once you have the Devi's attention, you can request the information."

"And the chances of the Devi going all typical god-smiting on us and trying to kill us?" Dean asked.

Balthazar pulled something out of his coat, something Sam couldn't begin to recognize, and put it in Sam's hands. Even by touch it was unfamiliar. He ran his fingers over it. It felt like wood, smooth and worn and old.

"Stake," Balthazar said after he watched Sam try and figure it out. "We'll be nearby, of course."

"Of course," Dean mimicked in his bitch-voice.

"You should sleep," Castiel said. "Balthazar and I can attempt to locate any other local Devi healers just in case this plan fails. There's been no word or rumor in regards to this being demon, but I would not rule it out."

"Crowley's still out there poking around," Balthazar said with a nod.

"Fine. You two piss off and let us get some rest. Sam looks like he's about to pass out and I'm pretty wiped myself."

Sam wanted to make some joke, some smart-ass remark about Dean's ass being sore, or anything to lighten the mood, but he couldn't. He fell back on the bed as the Angels disappeared. He could hear Dean still in the room, felt it when his brother sat near him, and he sighed because he just didn't want to do this.

"Is it that bad?" Dean's quiet question pierced the silence of the room. "Having to look at my gorgeous mug all day long really makes you want to rip your eyes out?"

Sam gave a slight chuckle and turned on his side to face his brother, eyes still closed. He reached out and touched Dean's arm, just confirming the space between them. "It's not that, okay? It's just… I knew who I was, Dean. I was me. I was the blind hunter, and I was good at what I did, and I was fine with it. Now this… and I never asked for it, and now I've got it. My whole life a little part of me wondered what it would be like to see, but I knew I could never have it, so I stopped wanting it. I didn't let myself because I need to be okay with being who I was. It's more than just struggling to figure out what that look is on your face when you wake up in the mornings, or what that mass of I don't know what is sitting under the window."

"Comfy chair," Dean said absently. It was blue, and plush.

"I can figure this out, how to live like this if I have to, but I'm just not sure I want to."

Dean sighed and reached out to squeeze Sam's wrist. "Yeah man, I get it. I mean, I don't get it, but I also can't imagine what it would be like in your shoes. I walked through the motions with you your entire life, Sammy. Spent days in a blindfold, read Braille, learned to navigate the pitch blackness with the best of them. Hell, I don't even look when I pour coffee in the mornings because of your whistling thing. I get what it's like to live blind, but I don't get what it's like to be blind."

"I'm not asking you to," Sam said, feeling like a weight, just for the moment, had been lifted off of him. "I'm just asking you to stop trying to get me to give up my cane, to give up the way I see things, because I'm not sure I want things to be different. And…" Sam paused, because this had been floating around in the back of his mind, but he was too afraid to say it. Saying it would betray everything he was, everything he stood for and everything he had become. Saying it would mean admitting that sometimes he agreed with other people when they said his life could be easier if he could see.

"What?" Dean pressed.

But this was Dean, and Sam had to remember that. He had to remember that he could say anything to Dean, because more than likely, if anyone got him, Dean would. "And what if I like it, Dean? What if my brain starts to process things like a sighted person, and I start to like it, and then I lose it?"

Dean let out a breath, saying nothing. Sam didn't want to see Dean's face, with this fingers or eyes. He didn't want to know if what he'd said made any sort of impact. Dean shifted, then he gave Sam's leg a rough pat.

"Get some sleep, man. It's been a long couple of days, and we have to figure this Devi shit out tomorrow."

The unspoken, 'It's okay to be afraid, Sammy, because whatever happens, I'm here, and we'll figure this shit out.'

"Night," Sam said, and Dean left the room, and Sam switched off the light. He shed his clothes down to his boxers, wiggled under the covers and enjoyed the blackness of the night. He slept then, and sometime during his slumber he felt warm hands and soft lips and a comfort he hadn't let himself think about in years.

When he woke, he was alone, but the empty side of the bed was warm, and there was something there, resting on the pillow, and Sam didn't know what it was when he looked at it. But when he reached out and his fingers ghosted over it, he knew exactly what it was. It was soft, and downy, and it floated through his hand and disappeared.


	4. Chapter 4

**Explanation of Dean's sudden change in behavior, and the boys figure a few things out. So I was going to make this fic shorter, but things just... keep happening. I don't even... know. So not sure entirely how long it's going to be. But I'm going to try and finish it because I'm swamped with work and going out of town soon.** Chapter 4

**Two Days Prior**

Dean woke with a start as the motel room door slammed shut. He knew Sam had been trying to wake him, but he was tired, and his dream had been pretty damn great. When Sam left, Dean sat up, contemplating going after his brother, but he knew Sammy needed to work everything out on his own.

He felt for the kid, he really, truly did. Sam hadn't been given an easy life. Sure, he'd conquered every fucked up challenge thrown his way—since birth—but it really just never seemed to end.

Dean sauntered into the shower and rinsed the remnants of his dream off his stomach. When he walked out, stark naked because well, when you grew up with a blind kid, you just really never gave a shit about whether or not someone was looking at your schmack, Cas was sitting on the bed.

He gave Dean his trademark long, slow stare, up and down Dean's body, licked his lips a little, and the corner of Dean's mouth quirked up. "You like what you see?" he asked with a wink.

"I believe you are aware of my affections for your nude form," Cas said.

Dean rolled his eyes, wondering if the Angel was ever going to get it. Likely not, so he grabbed his boxers and slipped them on. "What's up?"

"There hasn't been a single whisper or rumor regarding your brother's condition anywhere in the supernatural community," Cas said. He watched Dean pull his jeans on with a look of consternation—Dean would later come to recognize that as one of Cas's looks of appreciation—and sighed a little. "We need to consider whatever, whoever, did this, might never be found."

Dean wiped his hand down his face and glanced at himself in the mirror. He looked tired, but more than that, he looked concerned. He turned back to his Angel and sighed. "You know Sam isn't going to rest until he finds out what did this, and why."

"I am well aware of your brother's determination. Still, we need to accept the fact that even if we find what did this, Sam might not receive the answers he's looking for, or wants to hear, for that matter. You may need to encourage him to start coping with this change."

"That's not going to be easy," Dean said. "That kid has fought tooth and nail to get to where he is today, and this… I mean you saw him, Cas. He's a goddamn mess. He can see but he can't see anything. Last night he stared at his face in the mirror so long that he puked."

"Eventually his brain will start processing images, color and depth," Cas said. He rose and walked over to Dean, resting his hand casually on Dean's hip. "It's much like an infant, the ability to see without the ability to comprehend. It will be a slow process, but he will be able to do it."

Dean took comfort in that casual touch for a moment. He wanted to take a lot more than that, frankly, but he settled for kissing Cas hard, and then pulling away to slip his shirt on. "I'm gonna have to go full-on dick mode to snap him out of his mood," he muttered through the cloth as the shirt slid over his face. "He's bound and determined to put things back the way they were."

"I realize that. There are options, if he can't handle it. However, my concern is—this wasn't a natural process, and whatever was able to reverse the blindness might be able to do it again."

"We have to find out who did this and why. I mean, you know what, I'm glad the kid can see, okay? I know it might sound a little dickish but, you know, this doesn't just happen, and once he gets his head out of his ass he might realize that this ain't so bad," Dean gestured to his own, perfectly functioning eyes. "But apart from that, someone is fucking with my brother. Someone changed something that shouldn't have been able to change. And we have no motivation, no leads, and no suspects."

"I'm obtaining help on that front," Cas said. "Go and find your brother. There is a local Devi healer just outside of Denver, Colorado and chances are if they aren't the ones responsible for this, they will know who is."

Dean let out a breath. It was the first bit of real information they had so far, and well, the boys had solved cases with far less than that. "Okay. Okay we'll head out today. I'll whip him into shape as best I can, especially if we need to fight."

"Don't be too hard on him," Cas said, but the underlying tone was there. Do what you need to do. The more Sam is freaking out, the less he'll be able to function at full capacity and chances were, they were going to need all parties at the top of their games.

Cas was gone. Dean peered out the window and knew exactly where his brother had gone. He toed on his shoes and threw all of their crap into the Impala. Tossing the motel key into the little dish near the check-in window, Dean hit the sidewalk and headed down towards the water.

He paused near the little café and saw Sam off in the distance. He was sitting on a bench talking quietly to someone, but as far away as he was standing, Dean couldn't make out who it was. He paused, bending down to adjust his shoe, and when he stood up, whoever had been with Sam had gone.

Could have been Cas, but Dean doubted it. He made his way over to his brother, slowly, irritated by this entire situation and feeling guilt piling on by the shovelful. He didn't want to be a dick about this. He knew Sam was struggling and he didn't want to push him.

But he didn't have much of a choice. Dean flashed back to when they were young, when John was in trouble and Dean had to take Sammy on a hunt. The kid was barely seven and he was terrified. He kept shouting to Dean about how he couldn't do it, he couldn't see, he was going to die.

Dean had grabbed the kid by the shirtfront and shoved him hard against a wall. "That's right, Sammy. You can't see. You're blind and you always will be. But this is our life and if you don't knock it off and work with what you've got, you're going to die. Do you want to die, Sammy?"

The terrified kid, sightless eyes wide and flooded with tears, whimpered, "No."

Dean had let the kid go and took a step back. "Everything else works, right? Ears on good? Hands not numb? That's all you need, Sammy, so suck it up and let's do this. You're just as good as I am, and you know it."

However and why that little speech had worked, Dean didn't know. It had killed him to yell at his brother like that, to scare him, but it had worked. Sammy's face went hard and they had rescued John from a particularly ugly poltergeist. After that, Sammy worked hard, impossibly hard, to prove himself to his brother. John, too, a little, but their father had never, ever believed in Sam. But Sam didn't care, not really. Dean's opinion of him mattered, and over the years, Sam had proved himself.

Dean never went soft on his brother, and as he saw Sam sitting there, head back, looking thoroughly freaked out, he knew this time would be no different. He would have to push Sam again, because if they were going to solve this case, Sam had to get it together.

qp

Dean let the door to the adjoining room close more softly this time than he had before. He contemplated slipping the lock into place when he saw Cas sitting on his bed, but he realized even if Sam came in and saw them doing… that… he wouldn't know what the hell he was looking at anyway.

Dean met his Angel's eyes for a brief moment before he began to strip down to his boxers. A thick, tense silence coursed through the room as Dean went through the motions. Took a piss, brushed his teeth, washed his hands. Cas was still on the edge of the bed when Dean slipped between the sheets and put his arms behind his head.

"You going to just keep sitting there? My dick ain't gonna suck itself."

Cas rolled his eyes and looked at Dean with that look. "You're hurting."

Dean's jaw clenched and he let out a frustrated sigh. "Do we have to do this?"

"Yes."

Dean let out a groan and rolled onto his side to better look at the Angel. "I don't like this, okay? I don't like seeing Sam all … all fucked up like this. I don't like having no real plan, and you know what, he asked me to back off and goddamn it Cas… I want to. I want to back off and let him deal. I mean, it was one thing to push him when he was a kid, but he was born blind. He hadn't lived his entire life one way, then had all of that ripped away. This is different."

"I realize that," Cas said quietly.

"I need to back off."

"I agree."

Dean was mildly surprised, but didn't call attention to it. Castiel was a warrior, a fighter. Castiel loved Dean, but had no problem beating his lover within an inch of his human life if Dean asked for it. Which he had. More than once. Cas was not one to suggest Dean go easy on anyone. Especially Sam, especially after everything Sam had become, and had done.

"So what's the game plan? I mean, can we fix this whole mess?"

"I'm not sure," Cas said. He shrugged off his trench coat—something he never did in front of anyone but Dean—kicked off his shoes, and began to unbutton his shirt. Dean shifted over as Cas attempted to make himself comfortable on the bed. "Like it was stated before, killing the Devi won't reverse anything."

"Yeah but… why not?" Dean asked, frowning. "I mean, every time some bullshit thing puts their mojo on me or Sam, we kill it. We kill it and we go back to normal. We stop being demons or vampires or… whatever. So why not this time?"

"Because this isn't a demon or a vampire," Cas said, not quite patiently. "Dean, these creatures, these Devi, are not monsters. They are the embodiment of god powers. They're similar to Angels in that respect. If you kill them, it doesn't undo all of the good they've done. Were that the case, you and Sam would be flayed, crushed, burned, beaten and heaven knows what else because I am not the only Angel who has healed you both, and most of those other Angels are long dead."

Dean rubbed his eyes and sighed, wishing a little that they could skip the talking part and get right to the fucking. "Okay so… we have to ask permission, or whatever? To reverse it, or to find out why or how?"

"I'm afraid so," Cas said. "They're easy to talk to, however not as easy to negotiate with. It's probably better that Balthazar stay out of it. Any creature related to the pantheon is not a current fan of Angels."

Dean got that. After what Lucifer had done, and after everything those winged dicks had put the Winchesters through, Dean really and truly got that. "So why is he back, by the way? Balthazar? I thought he was done hanging out with the apes." Dean remembered well Balthazar's parting words to Sam as he left the younger Winchester broken, both inside and out.

"I'm not sure of his motivations. I believe he still holds some affection for your brother, though."

"What a dick," Dean said. He was through talking, however, and began to tug at Cas. The Angel responded favorably, and Dean was glad their little jaw session was done for the night.

qp

"Sam seriously, enough primping," Dean snapped at his brother who was staring at himself in the mirror.

"I'm not primping, dick," Sam said.

Dean walked up beside Sam and threw his arm around his brother. "I realize you don't quite get it yet, but you look good. I mean, not as good as me, that will never happen. That's just luck. But your face is passable and your hair is…fine." L'oreal, he didn't say, though secretly he hated Sam for it. "Let's just go, okay. We're wasting time."

Sam swallowed, glanced back at the two total strangers in the mirror and then took a deep breath. "Yeah okay. Yeah." He walked to the bed, trying not to count steps—but he did anyway—grabbed his glasses and then ghosted his fingers over his cane. He hesitated, then pulled his hand away and turned to Dean. "Okay. Let's go."

Dean frowned and looked down at the cane. "Look man, it's… it's fine. You need it. Take it."

"No," Sam said, pulling a full-on bitchface. "You were right, and if this is my life now, if this is it, I have to stop relying on my old life to get me through the day." Dean watched as Sam turned away from the bed and started for the door. He was clearly counting steps, and his hand was out in front of him to prevent himself from falling, but he found the door, opened it, and walked out.

Dean looked over at the cane and sighed, slipping into the inside pocket of his coat. He got it, Sam was trying like he had always tried to do everything, but Dean also understood that pushing Sam would be totally pointless. He followed his brother, who was standing in the middle of the hall looking completely lost.

"Come on," Dean said, and gruffly but firmly, he put Sam's hand on his shoulder and led him out into the lobby. He pretended not to hear Sam's sigh of relief, or feel the younger Winchester squeeze him tighter than was necessary, and they walked out to the parking lot.

When they turned the corner to where the Impala was parked, Sam let go of Dean's shoulder and nodded. "There," he said, pointing. "I see it. Like I… I see it, see it."

Dean smiled and gave Sam a pat on the shoulder. "Good job, Sammy. Gold star. Now see if you can get in without breaking your neck."

It was a joke, but that didn't stop him from watching Sam like a hawk as his brother walked over to the car, reached for the handle, and got in. He suppressed a smile as he slid behind the wheel and started it up.

"So where is this thing? This compound?" Sam asked as Dean pulled out onto the street.

"Cas said it's just a few miles out of the city. We get off in some suburb called Broomfield and it's out in the middle of nowhere."

"Comforting," Sam said. "A strange religious compound in the middle of nowhere, Colorado."

"Yeah. Just our luck."

The drive was fairly quiet after that, Dean keeping the music level far below normal, and Sam's eyes were squinted as they took in the violent wave of scenery, trying to make sense of it all. Dean caught him a few times, staring down at his phone, trying to navigate the buttons by sight instead of touch.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, zero," Sam muttered under his breath. He had his old phone, the flip-phone kind that Dean had meticulously brailled with drops of melted plastic. Sam was reading the numbers by memory. "Dude, how… I mean how did you manage to figure these symbols out?"

Dean snorted and shook his head. "I think any sighted person might ask you the same thing about Braille."

Sam shrugged. "It just seems so… senseless. I mean with touch, you get up close and personal. You feel the shapes and temperature. You feel what's there, you know it. With your eyes you just sort of… you see it and you have to just sort of have faith that it's actually there. That it actually means what it is. Seems… bizarre."

Dean licked his lips and let the words sink in. It was true, and it made sense. There were so many things Dean had seen, hallucinations and ghosts and shit that fucked with his head, and Sammy never suffered from that, from that fear and confusion because unless he touched it, it didn't exist. Even when Sam heard things, strange things, they didn't exist unless he could feel it.

"You get used to it," Dean said after a while.

"Yeah. I guess I'll have to."

Half-way through the drive, Dean felt a shift in air pressure and looked in his mirror to see the two Angels seated comfortably in back. Balthazar looking slightly put out, Cas looking slightly constipated, and he couldn't help the small snort that escaped.

"Nice of you to join us," Dean said.

Sam turned around and stared at the Angels. Hard. Obviously trying to tell which was which. "Balthazar," Sam said, and pointed to the correct, smarmy Angel.

"Well done," he replied to his former lover, and winked.

Sam blinked his confusion at the unfamiliar expression, shook his head and turned back around. "So any new updates?"

"Not so much. We're just tagging along in case you two morons get yourself into a situation you can't get out of. Which, undoubtedly, you will."

"Glad to see you so eager to save our asses, Balthy," Dean sneered.

"I've only interest in one arse here," Balthazar said, leaning forward slightly. "And I don't want to traumatize your sensitive nature by describing that particular… interest."

Dean went slightly green while Sam muttered, "Please shut up."

With a sigh, Castiel took over and directed the way to the dirt road where the compound lay. They pulled off to the side where the Angels decided to exit the car, but not before Balthazar slipped an amulet on a silver chain around Sam's neck.

"Cute," Dean snarked.

"Being that we cannot find you or sense you," Balthazar said, not quite patiently, "this will help you call us should you need anything."

Sam's hand closed around the amulet. He could feel an inscription and an image, but there was no point in looking at it. "We just what… pray?"

"I love how you boys still call it praying," he said with a slight chuckle. Standing back, he tapped the top of the Impala, irritating Dean to no end, and then they were gone.

Glancing over at his brother, he said, "Okay, Sammy, let's do this." He put the car into drive and they made it to the front gates.

It was an odd looking place, a large parking lot, fenced, cameras, but not much else. There was a bored-looking guard standing near the walk-in entrance and Dean pulled into the parking lot. "Better chance at keeping Baby safe," he muttered.

Sam smiled just a little as he took off his seatbelt. "You have the stake?" he asked as he pushed his glasses up on his nose.

"Yeah and uh…" Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out the white cane.

Sam took it and frowned over at his brother. "I told you I didn't want it."

"Yeah well it completes the look, Sammy," Dean said, waving his hand at Sam's glasses. "Besides, you were right. You can't just know all of this seeing stuff, and if shit gets ugly in there and we have to fight, I need you able to hold your own."

Sam's jaw clenched but he gave a slight nod and opened his door. The guard, a man that looked to be in his late thirties, looked up at the brothers approaching. His eyes settled over Sam, the glasses and cane, and he sighed.

"Afternoon," Dean said, and Sam had to refrain from elbowing Dean as the elder Winchester slipped into his too-obvious fake, 'hi-how-are-ya' tone. "We're here to get some uh… healing."

"Did you make an appointment?" the man asked.

Dean let out a small cough. "Appointment, uh.,, well. Well no."

"We didn't realize we'd be needing one. The waitress we met during breakfast this morning said that her brother was profoundly deaf and was healed here," Sam said, letting his frustration and anguish over his entire situation leak into his voice. For dramatic effect, he pulled off his glasses and let his eyes roll up slightly into his head. "We just… we just were hoping…"

The guard, who was clearly torn between pity and irritation, sighed and said, "Well she's not very busy today, so I'll make an exception this once. However, if you boys tell others about this place, please ask them to make an appointment. The number's on the website."

Dean let out a small breath and smiled as the gate opened and he and Sam walked through. "There's a website?"

"Best way to advertise nowadays," Sam said with a slight shrug and a smile. They walked into the building, which looked a lot like the waiting room of a doctor's office. The woman behind the desk was on the phone and she looked over at the boys with an irritated smile.

"The guard just called in. Luckily for you, she's free."

"Thanks. Which way?" Dean asked.

"I'm sorry, she does individual appointments with those needing to be healed only," the woman said.

"Listen lady," Dean snapped, "there's no way I'm letting some hoaky healer put her hands on my brother—"

Sam put his arm on Dean's, silencing him. "It's fine, Dean. Really. I won't be long."

"No Sam, I don't like this," Dean said.

But Sam was not to be deterred, and he let the woman guide him back down the hall, leaving Dean stunned in the waiting room.

Sam was having trouble processing all of the sights around him, but he didn't let on as he was brought to a dimly lit room with a sofa and a small bench along the shaded window. The receptionist promised the healer would be with him soon.

Sam felt for the sofa to confirm what it was, and then sat. It felt like hours passed before Sam heard the knob turn and the door open. A woman walked in, tall, long, black hair, clothed in a simple, blue sari, and she was smiling.

"Sam Winchester, I had a feeling I would be seeing you here."

The voice was so familiar that Sam nearly panicked He rose, staring at her, trying to make sense of her form. "Kali?"

She laughed, her head shaking slightly back and forth. "I'm afraid Kali is dead. You were there, yes, when she was destroyed."

Sam swallowed, terrified but there wasn't much he could do about it. "Yes. I was."

She gave a little hum and walked a wide circle around him. "Take off your glasses." Sam obeyed as she stared into his eyes, smiling even wider. "You're not here to be healed. Or… are you?"

Sam blinked rapidly and swallowed. "Are you responsible for this?"

The Devi cocked her head to the side, and then let out a sigh. "No."

"Do you know who is?"

She smiled. "Yes." She took a step back, leaning against the counter in the corner of the room and crossed her arms. "My name is Shri-Lakshmi, though Lakshmi will do."

Sam gave a nod and tried to appear as reverent as he could. He could feel her humming with power, and he knew he was in no position to demand answers. Dean had the stake, and it was more likely that this goddess would kill Sam and Dean before Dean could make it down the hall.

Lakshmi laughed. "You're correct, your brother would not make it ten steps before he perished. Even with your Angelic help," she said and nodded to the amulet.

"We just want answers," Sam said.

"I can see that. Are you not happy with your newfound gift of sight?"

Sam frowned and crossed his arms. "No. Yes. I don't know. I'm not sure I consider this a gift."

Lakshmi gave a slight nod. "You were content." She started to pace again, just slightly, looking Sam up and down. "This is the work of my sister, Parvati. She and I are the only ones left, gifted with the powers to heal, although we are weak. Parvati has been making deals, working in the human soul trade for strength."

"And you?" Sam said, feeling slightly sick at the confession.

She looked at Sam, and by her tone he knew that the expression on her face was offense and disgust. "I would not lower myself. Dealing in soul trade for strength would make me an abomination. That is not our purpose."

Sam wasn't sure how to take that, how to take her, but the truth was, it didn't matter. He reached up and rubbed at his eyes. "Can you tell me what the purpose of this was?"

"A gift," she said with a simple shrug. "A thank you, if you will."

"From?" Sam pressed.

She smiled and shrugged. "An old friend."

"Demon?"

This time she laughed, the sound rushing through Sam and his head started to spin a little. "I want you to kill her."

Sam froze, staring at her with wide, uncomprehending eyes. "Kill her? Parvati? The goddess?"

Lakshmi spread her hands out and smiled. "Who else?"

"Why? Why kill her? I've been told repeatedly that it won't make a difference, that it won't matter."

"Because your old friend," she said slowly, walking up to Sam with deliberate steps, full of purpose, "is enslaved by her, and if you kill her, I will let him go."

She pressed something into Sam's hand, and he looked down at it. A hat. An old… and old trucker hat. He didn't see it, but he felt it. He'd felt it before, he knew that hat by touch, had since he was a baby and oh god…

"Bobby," he whispered. "How?"

She smiled. "You'll find her north, far north of here. She likes the dense forests and the rain. You kill her, and I will ensure that his spirit moves on."

Sam took a step back from her and tried to hold on to the hat, but it disappeared and his fingers closed in on his palm. There wasn't any other option. Sam didn't care, couldn't care, whether he could see or not, whether this was a gift or a curse, because Bobby was suffering. He was supposed to have been dead, to have let go.

"Fine," Sam said and with that, she was gone and he was alone. He didn't use his cane when he came out, and Dean, who looked like he'd been glued to the chair by supernatural forces, shot up the moment Sam came out.

The receptionist made a small noise but Sam ignored her as he approached his brother, hand out to mind the distance. His hand hit Dean's shoulder and then fisted the coat there. "We have to go."

"What happened?" Dean demanded, but Sam gave him a violent tug and Dean got the clue. Leading the way, Sam's hand on his shoulder, they shot out the doors and back through the front gates.

The guard called out something after them, but Dean roared the engines on the Impala and peeled out. "What the hell happened back there? Did you piss her off? Come on, Sammy!"

"Bobby," Sam said after a long, long time. He pressed his thumb and fingers into his eyelids and shook his head. "It was Bobby, Dean."

"What was Bobby? The Devi?" Dean asked incredulously.

"No," Sam said. "Bobby did this." He gestured to his eyes and then looked at his brother. "He sold his soul to another Devi, one who has been dealing in soul trafficking for power."

"That son of a bitch," Dean all-but shouted, slamming his hand on the steering wheel. "How many times are we going to save his ass? This is getting ridiculous."

"She said the other Devi, Parvati, is up north. In the rains. She said if we kill the other Devi, she will ensure Bobby's release and get him to heaven… or wherever." Sam said slowly.

"Fine, whatever," Dean said.

"You know we have to, right?" Sam pressed when he realized he wasn't sure if Dean was on board with the plan.

Dean sighed. "Why would Bobby do this?"

"She said it was a gift for me," Sam said, and his voice broke just a fraction at the end. "He could have just asked."

"Yeah, he could have. Hell, he could have asked me and I would have told him what a dumbass idea that was," Dean growled. "Now we gotta gank some god, and that never ends well…"

"A powerful one, I'm assuming," Sam replied as he toyed with the amulet around his neck. "Especially if she's been dealing in soul magic."

"You know Crowley is behind this," Dean said, shaking his head. "That son of a bitch has been vying for Bobby's soul for years. I'm sure he shot that Hindi bitch up with a buttload of power, too. He has to know we'd come after her."

"We need more information," Sam said.

"Cas!" Dean called, but there was no answer. "Cas, goddamn it! I'm not in the mood to wait around!"

Stillness, and Sam sighed, clutching the medallion and thought, "I don't want to see you, but I need you."

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd given up on me altogether," came the drawl from the back seat.

"Where's Cas?" Dean snapped.

"Busy," Balthazar said. "I suppose you've gotten your answer?"

Sam turned, looked directly at the Angel, and gave a slow nod. "I don't care if I can see or not, but the Devi has Bobby, or has traded him for power."

"That redneck ape," Balthazar sneered. "I didn't think anyone could possibly be worse than you two."

"Are you going to help us or not?" Dean snapped, glancing back at Balthazar with fire in his eyes.

"Oh well you haven't used the magic word," Balthazar said with a grin.

"Listen you feathery son-of-a-"

But Sam interrupted him, reaching out and taking Balthazar's wrist in his hand. He squeezed it lightly, but not gently, and found the Angel's eyes. "Please," he said in a neutral tone. "I get it, I get everything you said to me, but right now we do actually need your help. So please."

Something flared in the Angel's eyes, but Sam didn't understand this new world enough yet to know what it was. But it was… different, and it felt warm and Sam could feel the skin under his fingers heat up just a fraction.

"We just need a location," Sam said. "That's all."

Then his hand closed in on itself as Balthazar was gone, and he turned. "What a dick," Dean muttered. "That guy… why the hell is he hanging around, anyway. I thought you two were you know… over, or whatever."

"I don't know," Sam said slowly, shaking his head. "But I think he's going to help us."

"Yeah well fat lot of good his 'help' has done in the past," Dean said. "But I guess it's all we've got right now." There was a long pause and then Dean asked, "So where to?"

"North," Sam said. "Just… head north."


	5. Chapter 5

**So this is a super short chapter. I had promised to bring Crowley into the fic, but honestly this isn't so much a chapter as it is just a random bit of Sam/Balthazar. Does that pairing even have a name? Samthazar? Anyway... the fam and I are going out of town tomorrow and won't be back for a bit, so I wanted to write a little bit of the pairing before I left. To tide me over. 3 I stupidly watched the Christmas Episode for season three and my feels were in giant puddles all over the floor and I needed some fluff to cheer me up. Angsty fluff. So here you go. Enjoy!** **Oh and one last thing- so I haven't decided yet, but not sure whether to revert Sammy back to blind, or have him keep his sight. Votes?** Chapter 5

They stopped by the hotel only long enough for Dean to grab their bags and throw the keycards at the front desk. Sam waited in the car, knowing he'd just slow Dean down if he tried to help, and for once, Dean didn't argue.

Sam still hadn't had time to give Dean the full run-down of his meeting with Lakshmi, and wanted to wait until they were on the road. In the parking lot, Sam rummaged through their bags and pulled out his braille maps of the NW and by the time Dean got back to the car, he'd zeroed in on a few possible locations. Namely, the Hoh Rainforest in Washington state.

He said as much when Dean jumped behind the wheel and peeled out onto the street. "A rainforest? We have freaking rainforests in the US?" Dean asked with a frown.

Sam shrugged. "Apparently so. I guess I'm a little behind on my geography of the area since we never really spent a lot of time there. But here look," he grabbed Dean's hand and directed it to the map, trailing Dean's fingers along the wide, expansive area. "I mean, Lakshmi said that Parvati was isolated in the rains, but that she was also local. Washington and Oregon are really the only places it rains almost all year long."

Dean gave a slow nod as he navigated the Impala onto the freeway. "Well, it's all we've got until one of those feathered assholes decides to pop on down and let us know what the hell is going on." There was a long silence and then Dean took a breath and asked, "So what exactly did she say?"

Sam smiled a little and recounted the entire story, from the moment he walked in, until he said the part where Kali had died.

"Woah wait, Kali died?" Dean asked, his voice rising with wonder.

"Well I had always assumed she died," Sam said, recalling the last time they'd seen the goddess. It was weeks after their encounter at the Elysian fields, and Kali had attempted to help them using some of her blood magic. Zechariah showed, and not wanting another ass kicking, the boys had taken off, thinking Kali would be able to hold her own. "We hadn't heard from her since."

"Yeah well I figured that bitch had things covered," Dean said. "Oh well, good riddance. Anyway, so finish the story."

Sam did, and then rubbed his tired eyes and leaned his head back against the seat. "It's all we've got, but at least we know who did it, and why."

"Yeah, I just can't believe Bobby would be this stupid," Dean growled as he pushed the gas pedal even harder. "I mean, hasn't he learned his lesson about soul bargaining?"

Sam shook his head and sighed. "I guess not. You really think Crowley is behind this, though?"

"Who else?" Dean asked. "Who the hell else would go to all this trouble to fuck with us."

"There's a list a mile long, Dean," Sam said with a small snort. "Above and below."

"But the only one who would bother in soul trading is that limey son of a bitch, and I've had it up to here with his crap," Dean snarled.

Sam sighed, but he knew Dean was right, and honestly, he felt the same. It was just one thing after another. Demons, monsters, hell, heaven, rebellions and apocalypse. Now this, and Sam had no idea what the point would be. He figured Crowley wanted Bobby simply because Bobby had gotten out of his deal, all thanks to Sam and Dean, and Crowley was a fairly sore loser. But this… this was a very bizarre way of going about things.

"So we got some sort of game plan once we see this bitch?" Dean asked after several miles of total silence.

"Not really," Sam said. "According to the map, we've got a good two days drive on our hands. I figure we'll stop half-way and see if Balthazar or Cas have any new information."

"Yeah okay," Dean said with a nod. "Where's half-way?"

Sam grabbed the map again, feeling out the distance with his fingers and then said, "Looks like Utah. Salt Lake City's our best bet."

Dean threw back his head and laughed several times in succession before dropping his face and deadpanning, "No way Sammy. No. I don't do Mormons."

Sam rolled his whole head along with his eyes and shoved the map down. "Dude, it's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal? Have you met those fuckers? With their white shirts and black badges and heavenly father shit? I'm sorry, but no."

Sam, finding that absolutely ridiculous, tried not to laugh, but failed. "Dean, what's the big deal. It's not like they're going to send missionaries to our hotel room door."

Dean glanced over at Sam, and Sam, now beginning to be more visually familiar with Dean's face, caught a look of what had to be contempt and incredulity. "Sam, do you realize that we both have—and currently are, at least in my case—sodomizing men. Not just men, Sammy, but Angels. We are giving it to Angels right up the ass. No, Sammy, I don't do Mormons."

"Well you don't really have a choice unless you want to drive all night, and I don't recommend it considering we have to be at the top of our game once we reach Parvati," Sam cautioned. "I don't know why you care what they think, anyway. We actually know what Heaven and Hell look like. We've been there. Shit, Dean, I've been Lucifer. I think if anyone needs to be terrified of anyone, they should be damn scared of us."

qp

Despite Dean's continued protest, by the time they made it to the Salt Lake City city limits, Dean was exhausted and they were both starved and ready to get out of the car. They found a hotel just off the side of the freeway with a café attached, and though they received a few odd stares here and there, for the most part it was totally normal. No white-shirted preachy, pimply nineteen-year-olds tried to throw the Book of Mormon at them, and after the meal they made it to their hotel room without incident.

"I told you it would be fine," Sam said as he walked the perimeter of the room. He was getting better at recognizing things, only needing to confirm a few things here and there. That sent a pang of fear down his spine, however, because the idea that he might get used to it, and he might like it, only to have it taken away, was something he didn't want to deal with.

Eventually, when the Angels didn't show and exhaustion took over, both Winchesters resigned themselves to bed and fell right into a fitful sleep.

Sam woke sometime in the dead of night to a strange sound. He glanced around in the dark, but could barely tell the shadows apart, and though the glowing clock on the nightstand displayed the time, he couldn't read it. Sam started to reach for his gun when a warm hand closed over his wrist.

"What the—" but suddenly fingers were pressed to his forehead and Sam felt the familiar tug of being transported via angel. When he landed, he looked around and saw a very unfamiliar room. It was far more empty than the hotel, a few pieces of furniture laying around, and the color was all very muted.

"It's one of my penthouses," came Balthazar's drawl as he crossed the tiled floors. The echo of his shoes bounced off the wall, bothering Sam slightly. "I chose this one because there's a lot less furniture to trip you and break your neck."

Sam watched as Balthazar reached for him and pressed something cold into his hands. A glass of something. Sam sniffed it and then took a sip. Vodka tonic, splash of grapefruit. Sam assumed the bright thing floating in it was the cherry. Because… Balthazar liked cherries. Sam flushed a little and turned away from the Angel.

"What am I doing here?"

"Taking a break from your brother's incessant bitching and complaining?" Balthazar offered.

"We were both sleeping," Sam said, and part of him wanted to throw the contents of the glass in the Angel's face, but he drank it down instead. The vodka, a higher end, and strong, burned on the way down, but Sam needed that.

"Right well, even in his dreams he doesn't stop shouting and complaining and generally fucking this up. Or… fucking things, depending on what time of night it is."

Sam snorted a little and turned to his former lover. "Seriously, why did you bring me here? I'm exhausted and we have a really tedious mission to accomplish tomorrow. Did you get any information?"

"I did, yes," Balthazar said, spreading his hands open and smiling. "Let's step outside and we can chat."

"Why not right here?" Sam asked.

Balthazar pulled a face, closed his hand around Sam's wrist, and pulled him along. "I want to show you something, you stubborn monkey."

Sam tried to protest, tried to fight the persistent hand on his, but truthfully, he didn't try very hard. Balthazar opened the door to the outside terrace and Sam glanced around with wonder he couldn't help. This… this was a sight he hadn't seen before. It was dark and there were streaks of light absolutely everywhere. Down below, high above them, it was… amazing. His breath caught in his throat and he forgot, just for a moment, that he hated the arm that snaked around his waist.

"This, Sammy, is why people want you to see," Balthazar said. He pushed Sam forward until Sam's hand came into contact with the railing. "You know, the way you saw the world was fine. It was beautiful in its own way, and not a soul in heaven or hell, nor on earth, would blame you for wanting to go back. But you've been given a gift, and even if you intend to return it, maybe enjoy it. Just for the moment."

Balthazar's words flowed over Sam, through him, caressing and holding him in a way Sam thought he'd lost forever. He let his eyes roam over the things he couldn't explain, but he saw it. He saw the beauty. His vision started to blur, and it took him a moment to realize that it was the world through his eyes when there were tears in them.

"How high up are we?"

"Fifty stories," Balthazar said, his mouth very close to Sam's ear. He reached out a gentle hand and turned Sam's chin upwards. "Those specks of light, my dear, are stars. Did you ever wonder what stars looked like?"

"When I was little, once, I think I did," Sam said, knowing full well that he had wondered, but he hadn't let himself think about it for long. He sighed as Balthazar's hand slowly released his face and came to rest on his shoulder. He was facing the Angel now, and looking at him through the dim light and really seeing him, and he was hurting.

"You want to know why I left you," Balthazar said quietly.

"I know why you left me," Sam said, sounding bitter and angry. "It's the same reason Cas hates to let me touch him. The same reason that he didn't fight very hard for my soul when he pulled me out of the cage. I get it. You're Angels. I've been tainted since my conception. Demon blood, Lucifer, murders I committed when I was without my soul. I… I get it."

Balthazar's eyes shut and his face contorted. Sam wondered if it was pain, or maybe it was some sort of mockery or disgust. He couldn't tell. Balthazar's shoulders tensed up a little, and then he opened his eyes. "Do you honestly think any of that matters?"

Sam frowned. "Yes, I do. I've been told repeatedly that it matters by the other Angels. You left me for dead, Balthazar. What else was I supposed to think?"

"The other Angels, dear Cassie in particular, are idiots. And so are you, you know that? A stupid fool, and I hate the fact that everywhere I go, everything I do, I'm haunted by you."

Sam felt a rush from those words, and he searched the Angel's face, desperate for a way to understand what his expression meant. "So you tell me, all the time," was what he finally said.

"You're fragile, Sam, as strong as you are, and as brave as you are. You're fragile and reckless and stupid, and so often completely mad. And you're mortal and you're in constant danger and I just… I can't watch you die. Never in my life have I cared for a human. Never. I've watched humans lay their life out for God and for Heaven and for people. I've watched the most gentle souls ripped apart by the world, and I didn't care. Then you. You and your stupid brother came along and everything changed for me. I hated you, Sam Winchester. Hated you for making me love you and I hate that I can't stop."

That was really all it took for the dam to break, though later if Sam was honest with himself, he'd realize the dam had never existed in the first place. But he hadn't allowed himself to feel these feelings since the Angel had left him and now he was there. And the night air was so cold, but Balthazar was so warm.

It was all lips and hands and arms. Legs and so much pressure and oh god… so good. And he took Sam right there, right on the balcony fifty stories high and Sam cried out with pleasure as his eyes fixed on those intense stars and seeing for the first time the face of the Angel as he released and cried out in pleasure, and Sam finally, truly understood the beauty of sight.

When it was over, the Angel cleaned Sam up without a word and they walked back inside, Sam somewhat unsteady on his feet, but he didn't touch Balthazar as they crossed the room to where they'd initially popped in. His head was spinning, from emotion and anguish, because everything Balthazar hated about Sam were things Sam couldn't help. He was human. He was flawed and broken and fragile. And some day he was going to die and there was no telling, not really, where he was going to go when it finally ended.

"You said you had some information for us," Sam finally said, breaking the silence. He had his eyes closed now, not able to look at Balthazar because if it was regret on the Angel's face, it wasn't a sight he ever wanted to get used to.

"Yes ah…" he said and trailed off. "You boys are on the right track it seems, and the Devi is located in the rainforest. She might be a tricky one, however, because she's been given demon powers in exchange for souls."

"Does that mean she'll be affected by salt or devil's traps?" Sam asked, momentarily forgetting what had just taken place.

"Very clever, Winchester," Balthazar said, and he suddenly disappeared, only to reappear with another drink. "Fancy a second?"

Sam shook his head and the Angel shrugged, setting it down at his feet. He took a long gulp of his own and said, "I would be prepared in several different ways. Prepared to negotiate, and prepared to kill her. She's strong, so stay on guard."

Sam gave a sigh and a nod and said nothing as Balthazar emptied his glass. "Look I um.. what happened out there. It's not… it… it doesn't change anything."

"Oh believe me, I know," Balthazar said, just a hint of contempt coloring his tone. "That was most definitely not my intention, though I can't say I didn't enjoy it."

Sam flushed, unwilling to admit the feelings it had stirred in him, not considering the pleasure he'd felt once again. "I should go."

"Indeed. Cassie should be back soon with further information, and I'm sure he'll insist on accompanying you on this mission seeing as you two could really cock it up… given your track record with facing deities."

Sam tightened his jaw against the insult, but said nothing as the Angel tapped his forehead and he went hurtling through the Angelic dimension back to the dingy, smelly hotel room on the side of the road in Utah.

He fell back against the pillows, feeling sticky and sore in all the right places, and hating himself for giving in because it had taken so damn long for him to get into a place where he felt whole again. From the rhythmic snoring, Sam could tell Dean was still out, and that was for the best. He needed to deal with his own shit before talking to his brother. Balthazar had thrown a wrench into Sam's concentration, and he couldn't afford to slip up. Not with Bobby's soul at stake, and not with the future of how his life was going to be lived either.


	6. Chapter 6

The drive was by no means comfortable, and the silence stretched out long enough to tell Sam that Dean knew he'd gone the night before. It wasn't that the brothers ever got particularly chatty on road trips, but even without a strong ability to read expressions, Sam could tell that whatever face Dean was making, it wasn't exactly pleased.

"So are we going to talk about this?" Sam finally asked after they'd pulled out of yet another fast food drive through.

"Talk about what, Sam?" Dean asked, his words thick with masticated french fries.

Sam didn't answer. He stared down at the burger in his lap. It was unappealing to say the least, and he wondered how sighted people actually managed to keep their appetites. I mean the smell was bad enough, but the muted colors of the bun and meat, with the mashed up lettuce and squashed tomatoes. Sam swallowed thickly and put the burger back in the bag.

With a sigh, he finally answered Dean's question, "I know you don't really like Balthazar…"

Dean let out a harsh laugh, cutting Sam off. "That's funny, Sammy. That's freaking hilarious. That son of a bitch kicked your ass, physically and emotionally. He turned on you, he's done nothing but get in our goddamn way since the day we met those winged bastards, and you still go back to him."

"He grabbed me out of bed last night without my consent," Sam complained.

"Yeah which is why you came back covered in Angel," Dean retorted.

Sam's face heated up and he caught a glimpse of his color-shift in the mirror. He shoved the sun-visor up and took a drink of the overly-sweet soda. "You and I have both done a lot of fucked up things on this road to wherever the hell we're going, okay? And… and it's not like I've forgiven him or forgotten what he did to me. But with everything I'm dealing with right now, it felt good to just… let go."

Dean fell silent again. He glanced a couple of times at Sam but let the silence fill in the space between the states. Sam eventually ate, having no choice, but did so with his eyes closed in an attempt to forget what the food looked like. He spent the rest of the time watching the scenery go by, trying to tell the subtle differences between shades of greens and blues, and the fierce black of the road and the harsh white of the paint that marked the lanes.

He was getting better at it, and he didn't mind it as much, though he still felt lost and dizzy. He missed when life was simple, but he still hadn't made up his mind on what he wanted in the end. It was nearly midnight by the time they arrived at their destination. They had the area mapped out within a twenty-mile radius, and Dean managed to find a run-down motel off the freeway.

It was a little better than their usual fare, but not much, which set them at ease since they had not yet forgotten their experience at the Elysian Fields hotel, and they were extra cautious when the other pantheon of gods were concerned. Dean paid for the room while Sam grabbed the bags, and they went into the double room.

Sam threw the stuff on the table, wiped from the drive, but he knew they had work to do. He grabbed a few maps out of the bag and found the one of Washington. Dean, meanwhile, went into the bathroom and a few minutes later, Sam heard the shower go on.

With a groan, he flopped onto the chair and fished through his bag until he found what he was looking for. His dad's journal. Not the one Dean had spent years meticulously brailling for Sam, either, but the one his dad had written out himself.

He spread the leather-bound book out in front of him, his hands tracing the cover he knew by heart. Flipping open the front, he stared down at the front page. Marks, that's all the words were. He squinted, trying to make sense of the letters. He traced his finger along them and the shapes his fingers made told his brain the letters. Dean had taught him to write, by shape and feel, and sound, but even tracing the letters, they made no sense to him. Just more vague shapes in this chaotic world.

On the pages were drawings. He knew the difference now between drawings and words, and he recognized faces, though they weren't like human faces. They were grotesque, monsters, though Sam had no reference. But they frightened him.

"Sam," came the hoarse, gruff voice of Dean's angel. Sam had long stopped startling when Cas popped into the room unannounced, and this time was no different.

He didn't take his eyes off that page. "Where have you been?"

"Research partly, and dealing with some of our own chaos," Cas said quietly. "Are you able to decipher visual text now?"

Sam shook his head and slammed down the cover. "No," he said with a harsh sigh. "Unfortunately it takes more than a few days of Dean bitching and me squinting to learn to read."

"I could help," Cas said, and when he raised a hand and walked toward Sam, the younger Winchester flinched and batted the Angel's fingers away.

"Thanks but I'll pass. If I'm stuck this way I'm going to do things correctly. I don't need you messing with my brain again."

Cas's eyes went downcast and he muttered, "My apologies."

Sam sighed. "No I… it's fine. I just, I need to do things my way. Without Dean complaining that I'm not trying hard enough, and without Balthazar screwing with my head, and without you Angel-mojo-ing me."

"I understand he has been to see you," Cas said. "I've spoken to him about it."

Sam snorted and shook his head. "And I'm sure he listened. Look, it's fine, okay? We're going to take care of this Devi mess, and I'm going to either go blind again, or effectively be blind until I figure out this whole seeing thing, and you and Balthazar can go back to your… whatever it is you do."

"He does care," Cas said.

Sam rubbed his hand down his face and gave a groan. "I don't care, Castiel. I really don't care. I don't care that he feels, or that he's sorry, or whatever crappy excuse he's giving for what he did. He didn't want to lose me, or he didn't want to feel things. It doesn't matter. I got over it, I got better, and I just want to solve this case and move on with my life."

"I understand."

"Do you?" Sam retorted, an almost knee-jerk reaction. He shook his head quickly, not wanting to listen to another one of Cas's awkward explanations. "Never mind. You found anything?"

"So far, no. There's something different about this Lakshmi that you visited. The lore regarding her is large and vast, but until now, there's never been any proof in her existence. This Parvati, however, is very real and infused with demon powers. She's been dealing with Crowley for years now, in soul magic, and from what Balthazar and I could discern from the miniscule amount of information available, it's possible that Parvati still has Bobby's soul. It would be more likely something that valuable to Crowley is something she would hold on to for more than just an infusion of power."

Sam nodded, taking all of that in. "So Bobby's probably bound to her by way of blood… or something like it."

"As you and Dean both experienced in hell, souls do bleed in Heaven, Hell and Purgatory. It's possible that Parvati did the exchange in one of those realms and now carries his blood around, effectively binding him to her. If you can get the blood, you can break the contract and free Bobby."

"Will that reverse my sight?" Sam asked without much inflection. He didn't want to be more than curious about that outcome. Not yet.

"It would be up to her. If you can kill her before she has a chance to reverse any of the magic she's performed, then no. If you give her any time at all, then yes."

Sam reached across the table absently and touched the stake provided to take out the demi-goddess. "And if we let her live, she'll continue to deal in soul magic for demon powers. What about a Devil's trap? Will that hold her?"

"Likely no, as most demons with any hint of power can break them with the right incantation… given enough time," Cas said. The door to the bathroom opened and Dean stepped out in a pair of boxers. Anyone who didn't know Cas wouldn't have noticed the shift in his expression, but Sam, even having spent his entire life blind, saw it. That Angel loved the Winchester, as much as it doomed the both of them.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked. He threw the towel he'd used to scrub his hair dry onto Sam's bed and walked up. He glanced down at the table and frowned at Sam. "Is that Dad's journal?"

Sam shrugged. "Yeah well I was just… looking at it."

Dean pulled a face Sam didn't recognize before flopping into the chair and grabbing it. "What are we talking about? Is there anything in here about the Devi?"

"Not sure, I was about to read through my copy," Sam said. "Cas doesn't think a Devil's trap will hold the Devi, however I was just about to ask if we could summon her the way we'd summon a demon."

"The answer to that, boys, is yes," came a very familiar, very smarmy British drawl. Both Winchesters were immediately on their feet, Dean with his gun drawn, and Sam with a bottle of holy water in his hand. Crowley laughed and held up his hands. "Now boys, I'm not here to fight. I'm not in the mood to get my hands dirty tonight." He made a show of inspecting his nails. "I'm here to offer you a deal."

"You're out of your damn mind if you think we're dealing with you," Dean snapped.

"Come on now, don't be like that," the King of Hell said and took one very small step toward the brothers. Cas fluffed up a little and Crowley shook his head. "Easy now, Big Bird, I'm honestly just here to talk."

"You're here to make a deal," Sam replied. "You want Bobby's soul, that Devi won't pay up and you're goddamn crazy if you think there's anything on this earth that would make us help you."

"Boys boys boys," Crowley said, shaking his head. "I know perfectly well you're not going to give up that whiskey-guzzling redneck. I'm chalking it up to one big, frustrating loss. I'll get him eventually, so believe me when I say I'm not worried about it. What I am worried about, however, is the five hundred or so other souls she's collected and hasn't paid. As much as I want Singer—and believe me, I do—I'll be willing to trade him for the rest of my merchandise. For now."

Sam and Dean looked at each other before Dean shook his head. "No."

"I'm going to collect anyhow," Crowley said, "whether you accept my offer of help or not. The moment she dies, the souls are forfeit. I get paid either way."

"So why help us?" Dean snapped.

"Because with Sam nearly out of commission," Crowley said, motioning to Sam's eyes, "there's a good chance that you two are going to get yourselves killed, and it's going to be god knows how long before I find another competent soul to take this bitch out. I'd much rather see it go right the first time, and get paid now."

Dean licked his lips and shifted. "You do realize that if you try to get Bobby, if you so much as make a move for him…"

"Yeah yeah, you'll flay me alive. You'll tie me up and make me your bitch. You'll grind my bones to make your bread, blah blah blah. I've heard the speeches boys, all of them. So do we have a deal?"

There was a pregnant pause. Dean was huffed up. Sam was waiting for his big brother to take the lead. Castiel stood at the back waiting to see if he would be needed.

"Fine," Dean said, surprising every being in the room.

Sam whipped his head to look at Dean, and Castiel said, "That was extremely unwise," while Crowley clapped his hands together and said, "Shall we seal the deal?"

"No," Dean said with a laugh. "You will take our word on this matter, and we'll take yours."

"Very unwise," Cas said darkly.

"Just tell us what we need to know," Dean said, ignoring his Angel.

Crowley walked up to the table and stared down at braille maps. "Really?" he asked, with a quirked eyebrow.

"Just tell us what we need to know," Sam snapped.

Rolling his eye, Crowley reached down and touched the map. His hands slid along the bumps until he found the area he was looking for. "Here," he said.

Angry with his brother, Sam elbowed Dean out of the way and slapped his hand down on top of Crowley's, letting the demon shift away so he could see the location for himself. "Okay," Sam said.

"She's here, but you'll need to summon her. As correctly stated by our feathered friend, a Devil's trap won't hold her. You'll need to get the jump on her. You can slow her down with holy water, and possibly an Angel blade which might destroy the demon powers in her, but even without them, she's stronger than you lot. You're better off getting her staked as quickly as possible."

"Anything else we need to know?"

"I like the new go-get-em attitude, Sam," Crowley said with a grin, and Sam shuddered. The demon reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial of what looked like black liquid. "This will summon her."

Sam took the vial and turned it in his hands, but even his fingers told him nothing about it. "You do realize if you double cross us, we'll kill you, right?"

"Oh I have no doubt about that."

Sam studied the grinning demon with a frown. Not that he'd ever really tried to picture Crowley, he still didn't look like he imagined him. Then again, no one did, really. Sam sighed and handed the vial over to Dean who snatched it away a little more forcefully than necessary.

"Great doing business with you. Hope to see you soon." And with that, the demon was gone.

"That was a stupid mistake," Castiel said, his voice rising a little. "Dean, what the hell were you thinking? Do you realize he has every intention of tipping that Devi off?"

Ignoring his lover, Dean reached into the bag and pulled out two cans of spray paint, tossing one to Sam. Sam knew exactly what it was for, and they began to ward the room. A few moments later, the room reeking of chemicals, Dean turned back to Castiel.

"I know he plans on giving away our location, just as I know this thing is useless. It looks like Leviathan goo. Either way, she's going to show up here and we're going to kill her."

"She's going to arrive prepared," Castiel warned.

"Yeah well, so are we," Dean said. Turning away from Cas, he turned his head up to the ceiling and said, "Dear Balthazar, if you'd be so kind as to get your smarmy ass down here, the least you can do is save Sam's ass before fucking it again."

Sam opened his mouth to argue, but the second Angel appeared with a wide grin. "It's cute when monkeys use the telephone."

Dean ignored him and turned to Sam. He had his phone open now, and was dialing a number. "Time to call your little goddess friend and have her get her ass down here. Parvati is going to show up armed, but so are we." He shoved the phone at Sam and walked away.

Sputtering, Sam threw the phone to his ear and waited for the answer. "I wasn't expecting you to ring so soon," came that sultry voice.

"We need your help," Sam said, though he wasn't sure how or why, or if she would bother to help.

"I expected as much. Send your angel friend over and I'll be right there." The line went dead.

Sam looked at Balthazar who nodded and then disappeared. Throwing the phone on the table, Sam turned to Dean, his arms crossed. "What's the plan?"

"The plan is we use all of our supernatural power, grab that bitch and we stake her. We're going to pump her full of holy water," Dean said, holding up the dart gun and several holy water darts. "Your little friend Lakshmi is going to hold her down and you, Sammy, are going to shove this right through her heart. Then we're going to have Cas and Balthy to snatch Bobby's soul before Crowley can get his disgusting hands on it and send Bobby's ass straight to heaven. I've had enough dicking around. This is a job and we're going to do it like Winchesters. We're going to shoot shit, stake shit, and have a beer when it's all done."

The plan sounded too easy. Too much like a regular job and Sam was worried, but the sound in Dean's voice was something Sam knew all too well. Dean's mind was made up, and at this point, considering no one else had a better plan, this was it. Sam just wasn't sure they were going to make it out in once piece.


	7. Chapter 7

**So this is the end. Honestly RL kicked my ass, which reminded me why I don't do multi-chaptered fics. And even have one I still need to work on which sucks. I think I'm going to do an Angel!Dean Human!Cas story next. Thanks a lot, TUMBLR! But I need that in my life. Not sure if the final chapter is any good, but hope you like it. I tried. gold star.** Chapter 7

"… off me!"

Both Sam and Dean startled at the cry filling the room when Balthazar finally returned with the Devi in tow. She was struggling to get out of his grasp, but he was stronger than she was, and she looked absolutely furious. Her eyes flashed over to the Winchesters, and then to Cas who stood pensively to the side, watching with his arms crossed, guard way up.

Cas, much like the Winchesters, didn't trust demi-gods of any sort, and this plan was set up for fantastical failure at the very best. "Raising you two from the dead isn't as easy anymore, I hope you realize," Cas muttered as Balthazar led Lakshmi to the bed.

Dean ignored him, staring at the Devi with a frown. "You sure we haven't met this bitch before?" he asked his brother.

Sam shrugged. "I thought she was Kali, but honestly I couldn't tell."

Dean ran his fingers down around his mouth to his chin, frowning at her. She, in turn, glared at the elder brother but said nothing. "Okay so she's here."

"So now what?" Sam asked.

"Now you'd better explain before I paint the walls of this room with your entrails," Lakshmi snapped. "You had one job, Sam Winchester, and dragging me here was not part of it!"

Sam sighed and nodded. "I know, and I'm sorry. I swear though, you're not going to get hurt."

"Don't listen to him, darling," Balthazar said quietly, "he's a Winchester. You do know what that means."

"Yes, I do," she said darkly.

"Your sister is working with Crowley," Dean said, cutting in before Sam could answer. "We need more than just a stake and two irritated Angels on our side. Sam mentioned you not wanting to hurt your sister, which means you can."

"You just don't want to," Sam finished for his brother, seeing exactly where Dean was going. "If you want us to stop her, you're going to have to help us."

"I can't," Lakshmi replied with a shrug. "I would if I could, trust me, but I can't. She's… protected."

"So you can't but we can?" Dean asked, skeptical and getting pretty pissed off. "How the hell does that work?"

"I don't expect you to understand," Lakshmi replied. She stood and Balthazar was immediately at her side. She glanced over and rolled her eyes. "I'm not going anywhere so back off."

He grinned but made no move to step away from her.

"You Winchesters, despite drowning in the supernatural, in higher powers, defying the natural order of things, still have no respect for it. Because of that, you don't understand how our magic works. I cannot harm my sister."

Sam gave a nod and stepped in front of his brother. "Fend of Crowley. You can do that, right? Fend off a demon? We'll handle her."

"If I say no?" she questioned.

"Then I will, as you so sweetly described earlier, paint the walls of this room with your entrails. Darling," Balthazar said with a grin. Sam looked at the Angel who winked.

Dean, who'd had quite enough and was ready to get on with this whole mess, grabbed the little vial of the Devi's blood and tossed it to Lakshmi. "True or false. That your sister's blood?"

Lakshmi took one look at it and laughed. "Who gave you this?"

"Okay so it's obviously a trap, and more than likely Crowley knows we brought in back-up. I don't think he wants this Devi… what's her name again?"

"Parvati," Sam replied absently.

"Yeah her, I don't think Crowley wants her to survive. She's obviously hoarding souls, but I'm sure he's going to try and use this to try and take one of us out. Especially since Cas just reminded us, it's not as easy to bring us back."

"And why do you want her dead so badly?" Balthazar asked Lakshmi with a frown. "What do you get out of it?"

"She's an abomination. Ridding the world of her is all I'm after," the Devi spat.

At the word abomination Sam flinched and Dean's hand twitched, like he was going for his gun. Thing was, the word was still pretty damn sensitive for the Winchesters. Sam wouldn't ever really stop being an abomination, and well fuck this Devi creature for implying that was a good enough reason to kill.

But she seemed pretty evil. Hoarding souls wasn't okay, on any level, for any creature. It was too much damn power and Sam was ready to just end this. "Can we get on with it?" Sam finally asked. His head was starting to hurt again from trying to process all of the faces and the images, and all the movement in the room. He closed his eyes and let his ears take over for a while.

Dean started to get everything ready for the fake ritual. Balthazar took Lakshmi into the bathroom, despite her crowing laughter that her sister would be able to sense her anyway. Balthazar seemed pretty sure he could cloak the Devi, at least for a while. Long enough for Sam and Dean to take care of this demi-goddess.

Cas stood in the corner. He seemed unusually petulant about this entire thing, and while Dean finished lighting the final candle, Sam moved over to Castiel's side and frowned at him. "Problem?"

Cas gave a sigh and looked across the room at his lover. "I feel like this is too easy. Crowley is obviously after the souls, but I have a feeling it's more than that. I'm uncomfortable with this entire scenario. Demi-gods have killed plenty of Angels in their time, so assuming we're safe just because of what we are would be foolish."

Sam gave a slow nod. "So… you have a better plan?"

"Unfortunately no, which is why I'm allowing you two to continue this suicide mission. Balthazar and I have a few other, loyal angels on alert in case something goes wrong and they need to find you in Heaven."

"Jesus," Sam said, dragging his hand down his face.

"No, not him," Cas said with a frown. "No one's seen him in a thousand years."

Sam rolled his eyes but didn't bother to correct the angel as he walked up to see if he could help his brother. Dean was standing over the little pot, stake at the ready, a Devil's trap painted on the floor where she'd be summoned, and a squirt gun with holy water. It was all they could do, and they could only hope her demon powers were taking hold over her Devi powers.

"What's Captain Constipated over there bitching about?" Dean growled as he uncorked the vial of fake Devi blood.

Sam gave a shrug. "He thinks this is a trap."

"It's obviously a trap. That's what we've been talking about for the last goddamn hour," Dean snapped.

"He thinks there's more to what Crowley wants," Sam replied. "He's got angels on alert upstairs in case we die."

"We're not going to die," Dean said, but Sam could hear the doubt in his voice. "If worse comes to worse, we hold the bitch down, exorcise the demon part of her, and then stab her through the heart with a stake."

"Sounds simple," Sam said with a shrug.

"Doesn't it always?" Dean flashed him a slightly sarcastic grin, a grin Sam had never seen before in his life, but knew right then that it was the grin Dean always gave him when he sounded like that, and he appreciated it. He had the urge to reach out and touch it, to feel the smile, to see if it felt the same. But he didn't. There wasn't time for that.

Sam looked over at Cas and nodded. They were ready. It was now or never. Dean began the ritual. He poured the Devi blood over the fire he'd lit and began the chant. It was something Sam had never heard before, something possibly Indian, Punjabi maybe? Sam couldn't be sure. All he knew was it was full of crap, and yet the room began to shake. The windows rattled, and somewhere off in the back he heard something topple over and crash on the floor.

He felt more blind than ever, not sure what to expect, not trusting his eyes to tell his brain what was going on. This was it, a hunt, the climactic event and he was seeing it for the first time. There was a shift in the air, something he'd felt before, and then she was suddenly there. In the middle of the Demon trap, smiling at them with her head cocked to the side.

Dean sprayed her with holy water. She began to steam, but her smile didn't fade. "Sam," she said, sounding nearly identical to Lakshmi. "How are you enjoying your gift?" Sam watched her fingers rise to a necklace she wore. It was covered in tiny gold rings. Sam had no idea how to gauge the amount on there, his eyes weren't that good yet.

"I never asked for this," Sam said.

"Is that why you're here? You asking me to reverse it?" Her eyes were huge, and Sam was having a hard time making sense of her form.

"We want Bobby's soul back, you bitch," Dean growled.

She looked down at the ground, at the Devil's trap and then laughed. "It doesn't work that way, silly boy. Bobby's sacrifice was his own, you realize. He was doing this for you, Sam."

Sam felt a painful twist in his gut and he shook his head. The idea that Bobby bargained his soul for this? It didn't make sense. Didn't Bobby realize Sam had been fine? Happy? Whole? "Reverse it," Sam finally said.

She smiled even wider, her teeth looking bright white and menacing. Sam could envision them biting into flesh, devouring it. He felt sick as she said, "No."

"Please," Sam said.

"Or we kill you," Dean added. He was clearly in no mood to be polite.

She took another step forward. "You don't have that kind of power." She walked forward again, and then realized she was stuck. She stared down at the Devil's trap and growled. "What is this?"

"Demon powers has its price sweetheart," Dean said with a smirk. "You didn't think it was going to be without consequence, did you?"

"Let me go!" she screamed.

"Exercise her," came the voice from the bathroom, and Lakshmi walked out with Balthazar at her heels. He looked slightly unnerved, but didn't argue with the command. "Exercise the demon powers and then stake her."

"Will it actually work?" Dean asked, looking between both angels.

"It will, and I'll thank you to get along with it, boys," came the drawl from Crowley who popped in, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"How the hell did he get in here?" Dean snapped.

"I have my ways. Now, your part of the deal, boy. Just like we discussed."

Parvati glanced over at Crowley, her eyes wide and all black now. "You betrayed me!"

"Oh don't feel so bad, love. If it makes you feel any better, I do it to nearly everyone who crosses my path. Just ask the boys here." Crowley winked at Dean and Sam and then took a step back. "Any time now. Being king of hell, I do have places to go, people to torture."

Feeling sick that they were working with Crowley at all on this, Sam nudged Dean who then grabbed his book to recite. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus," was as far as he got when suddenly Parvati grabbed one of the rings on her necklace, ripped it off and threw it at Dean. It hit him in the neck, and the exorcism book toppled from his hands. He flew backwards, his hands clutching his face and he was screaming.

Sam looked wide-eyed at the Devi who was laughing loudly. "Release me, and I'll heal him."

Sam then looked over at Dean who was crouched low, his eyes wide and staring. "Sammy!" Dean cried. "Sammy where are you?!"

"Dean I'm right…" Sam began, but it hit him, what she'd done. She'd given back the blindness, to Dean. She'd reversed it into his brother.

Sam ran to Dean's side and grabbed a hold of the elder Winchester. Pulling Dean to his feet, he could feel Dean shaking violently beneath his hands. "Sammy, I can't… I can't see. Sam?"

"Yeah okay, it's okay… I've got you," Sam said. He was panicking now. Cas was rushing across the room, Crowley was looking bored, and Balthazar was now holding onto Lakshmi who was shouting for Sam to finish it.

"Reverse it," Sam said, shouting at the Devi. "Fix him!"

"Not until you release me," she said, her black eyes narrow. "Now."

"Sam, no," Dean said as Cas replaced Sam's hold on the now-blind Winchester. "Kill her and be done with it."

"Killing me won't heal him, and you know it," she replied.

Sam walked right up to the edge of the Devil's trap and stared her down. "Release Bobby's soul, fix my brother, and we'll let you go. We won't come after you, we won't ever see you again. Do it, and do it now… or I kill you."

She smirked. "No. I'll heal your brother once you free me, but the human's soul is mine. He made the deal with me, and you are in no position to bargain for it. It's better off with me, you realize, than it is with that monster," she nodded to Crowley. "The choice is yours, Sam."

Sam frantically looked over at Dean who was blinking rapidly, trying to make the darkness go away. Lakshmi was staring, looking absolutely petrified. Balthazar was staring back at Sam with a stoic, grim expression, and again, Crowley simply looked bored.

"Kill her, she's lying," Lakshmi said. "Kill her and I can heal your brother."

That was really all Sam needed to hear. That she could heal Dean if Sam took this bitch out, and that's what he did. He grabbed the stake, his fingers finding it, and he closed his eyes as he leapt over the Devil's trap and plunged it into her heart. Her necklace clattered to the ground, the little gold hoops flying everywhere. Black smoke poured from her mouth as the demon powers were released, and then she died.

It was in that moment, of course, that Crowley made his move. He swooped up the rings, waved at the boys and were gone, taking Bobby's soul with him. Sam couldn't think straight, though, because now the Devi was dead, Dean was still blind, and when Sam turned, Lakshmi had gone.

"You let her get away!" Sam shouted at Balthazar. "Where the hell did she go."

"I didn't let her do anything," the angel retorted angrily. "She fed you a lie, you ate it up like the foolish human you always are, and she took her sister's powers and left."

"Took her sister's powers?" Sam stood up from his crouch over the dead Devi and moved his hair out of his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Well considering you wouldn't recognize… well anything standing in front of you… our darling Lakshmi was not, in fact, a Devi at all. My guess is that her powers were stolen by one of the lesser gods and she needed you boys to get them back."

"What the hell was she, then?" Dean growled, his hands clamped over his eyes. He was leaning on Cas who looked exhausted.

"That, my darling boys, was Kali."

There wasn't much the angels could do for Dean, and considering Sam couldn't drive, they were forced to sit in the room while the angels went on a hunt for the goddess. They'd removed Parvati's body, but the room still smelled like death, and there was so much crap everywhere that Dean couldn't move from the bed to the bathroom without falling on his face.

Sam was still relatively little help, seeing as his brain wasn't processing depth perception completely, and eventually Dean broke into laughter as Sam tried to get a bottle of beer from Dean's bag and failed three times.

"This is ridiculous. They've fucking blinded us, Sam. If anyone wanted us incapacitated, well they've goddamn done it. Look at us, man!"

Sam sat on the edge of Dean's bed and touched his wrist gently. "It's… we're going to fix this, okay? I swear."

"How?" Dean asked, and took a swig of the beer that Sam finally managed to bring over. "I mean seriously, Sammy. How the hell are you going to fix this? Kali might be a goddess, but there's a good chance she's as impotent as the angels are when it comes to this natural blindness stuff."

"I shouldn't have…" Sam said, and his voice got tight. He'd done this to Dean. He'd made a decision, a snap decision, panicked because his brother was down for the count, and it had been the wrong one. They'd lost Bobby in the process, and potentially their only shot at curing Dean. "I'm sorry."

"I would have done the same thing," Dean said after a moment of long silence. It was unnerving for Sam to watch Dean stare into the emptiness. Before, it wouldn't have mattered, because he hadn't known what staring even looked like. He wondered if that's how it was for Dean, for their entire lives. Until now. "I'm pissed and this sucks, but… I would have done the same damn thing."

Sam wanted to argue, but it was probably true. Dean had done some really stupid stuff when Sam was in danger, or dead for that matter, so he couldn't let himself feel too guilty. But this… this was bad. This wasn't something Dean could just walk off.

Silence fell between the brothers. Sam laid along the end of the bed, near Dean's feet, and they just sort of… sat. Hours ticked by without a whisper from the angels. Sam thought Balthazar had probably looked in someone's closet somewhere and then gave up, flying pack to his luxury penthouse. It would be just like the angel to do that. He didn't owe the brothers anything.

Somewhere around dawn, Dean shifted on the bed and muttered, "I can't believe you did this your entire life. Stumbled through the dark like this. Remind me to never give you shit again."

Sam gave a small smile and reached out to pat Dean on the hand. They'd figure a way out of it, he knew they would.

qp

"We've found her, and she's agreed to negotiate," Cas said later that afternoon. The brothers hadn't slept much, and getting food had been the most ridiculous chore of all. Dean used Sam's white cane and they did their best to navigate their way to the nearest café.

Dean spent most of the time tripping and cursing, and Sam spent most of the time trying to look like he could see—which he could, but people didn't quite get how he couldn't read or even judge the distance from his hand to the counter—but they'd done it. They'd done it together. Still, it was clear they could not function like this.

"Negotiate my ass!" Dean said. He was standing near the small hotel table, his hand on the top of the wood to keep himself oriented. "That bitch owes us. We've saved her ass twice!"

"I suppose negotiate is the incorrect word," Cas said. His hand twitched toward Dean reflexively, but Dean wasn't receptive to being touched right now, and Cas knew it. "She says she can't reverse the effects, but she can transfer them."

"What?" the brothers asked simultaneously.

"She can transfer them," Cas repeated slower. "She can remove the blindness and reinflict the original host."

"Meaning that I see again and Sammy goes blind?" Dean said, and then shook his head. "Hell no. Tell her to figure out a way to end it."

"She can't Dean, and that's a fact," Cas said impatiently. "It makes the most sense for Sam…"

"To what? To get to see for a couple of weeks and then take it away again? Well fuck that. I'll stay blind, thank you."

At this point, Sam rose and walked up to Dean. "Don't be an idiot, please. I feel like Cas is the only one making any sense here. We can't function like this and you know it."

Dean's jaw clenched and he shook his head. "You… you're getting used to things, Sam. You're starting to see things. You said you liked it."

"Yeah but how the hell am I going to learn how to function as a sighted person when the one person I need to teach me these things is now blind? And Dean, you're not going to just get used to it. I didn't just learn to hunt in a day, okay? I spent my entire life like that. You… this… we can't. Okay. We need to accept Kali's offer."

"No," Dean said, crossing his arms.

Sam pursed his lips, giving what Dean called his bitchface, and then grabbed Dean by the shoulders. Dean tried to fight him, but Sam was stronger, and since Dean couldn't see him, it was easy to keep a hold of him. He marched Dean to the middle of the room and began to spin him.

"If you can find your way back to the table in one minute, I'll agree to give this a try," Sam said. "One minute." He stopped spinning Dean, leaving him to face the bathroom.

"Fine. One minute, no problem," Dean said with a smirk.

But it was a problem, obviously, and it was almost too painful to watch. Twice Sam had to grab Cas to stop the angel from helping his lover. Dean stumbled, he walked tentatively, his hands out. He cursed and stubbed his toe on the bed, and four minutes later, he still hadn't found the table.

Sam sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. "Okay?" he asked.

"Fuck you," Dean spat. He was able to find the bed, and flopped down face-first.

"Take me to her," Sam said.

Cas touched him, and they were suddenly in an office. It was similar to the room Sam had met Lakshmi in the first time, but not the same. The smell was different, and the sound. Cas wasn't with him, but he figured the angel was close by as Kali walked into the room with a smile.

"Why didn't you just tell me why you wanted her dead?" Sam asked.

She gave a small shrug. "Would you have helped me?"

Sam thought about it, and the truth was, he didn't know. Probably not. They might have tried to save Bobby's soul, but not at the cost of this. Of Dean's sight, and this choice.

"You've agreed to my terms?" she asked.

"There's no way you can just remove the blindness?" Sam asked, because a tiny piece of him would miss this world of shapes and colors and amazing things. Would miss the sight of Balthazar's face, even if he hated that bastard so much. Most of all he'd miss that Dean smirk, because he'd been told over the years how funny it was, and kind of cute, and so Dean… and everyone who'd ever told him that had been right.

"I'm sorry Sam. I do realize what you've done for me in the past, but I don't have that kind of power."

"Fine." Sam was disappointed, but he could live with it. He would live with it.

"There's one other thing, however," Kali said, and Sam stared at her. "A little birdie gave me a request, and with his powers combined with mine, I think we'll be able to accomplish it."

"What request?" Sam said, tired of requests being made on his behalf without his consent.

"I think it's supposed to be a surprise." With that Kali reached over and touched Sam's forehead.

He thought there'd be more to it. A tremble in the earth, maybe a rush of power. Instead it was just sort of like blinking, only when he opened his eyes, he saw the same thing he'd been seeing for the last thirty some-odd years. Just that sort of vague blob, the difference between light and dark.

It took him a moment to orient to it, but it was done. It was done, and he knew Dean could see now, and he was probably with Cas, appreciating every nuance of Castiel's expressions, and maybe kissing him. Probably kissing him.

Sam had to smile at that thought. He heard Kali shift and then he could tell the room was empty. He sighed and closed his eyes and tried really hard not to be disappointed. He was okay like this. He'd been whole before, and he was whole now. He'd gotten to experience things that very few people blind from birth ever got to. And it was okay. It was.

A hand closed on his arm and suddenly they were… somewhere else. He thought for a moment maybe it was Cas taking him back to the hotel, but when his feet hit the ground, he knew they were somewhere else. And that it wasn't Cas.

"Balthazar?" Sam asked into the wide unfamiliar space.

"I'm afraid so. Cassie is a bit… busy at the moment." The smirking voice came from behind him, and Sam had to smile.

He turned, and then gasped, almost falling over. In the blur that was his life, suddenly Balthazar was standing there. Somehow, he was there, and Sam could see him. His hand reached out to confirm it, and his fingers came into contact with warm flesh, and a smile, and then Balthazar laughed.

"How?" Sam asked.

Balthazar gave a shrug and brought his own, cold hands up to Sam's face. "I couldn't give you much. It's not even real sight, you know. It's just my gorgeous image burned into your brain. But you'll always be able to see me."

"So instead of taking the image of the ocean, or forest or trees that I'd seen, you chose to use this power to give me the ability to see you?" Sam asked. He was both horrified and confused, and a little bit happy about it. But really… how… typical.

Balthazar laughed again, and then suddenly his lips were on Sam's, kissing him hard and furious and deep. Sam's hands found the front of Balthazar's shirt and he let his eyes open up just so he could see the Angel's face right in front of him and god… how he never really stopped loving him.

"What about… the whole…" Sam gasped as Balthazar's fingers found that spot, right there, and Sam gave a groan. "God… human thing. You… you said…"

"Shut up, you stupid monkey, I'm trying to fuck you," Balthazar growled, and then he did just that. It was furious and hard, and not gentle at all, but it was glorious and made up for every shitty thing Sam had been through over the past few weeks.

And then it was over, but Balthazar was still there, and Sam could feel cool air so he knew they were outside somewhere. Anywhere, really, because it didn't matter right then. There was something different about this, too, something different about the way Balthazar held him.

The Angel would never love humans, but Sam wasn't just a human, and Sam had to wonder if maybe the dumbass angel had finally figured that out. He guessed, by the gift he'd been given, and the way Balthazar was pressing small kissed to the back of his neck and just holding him like he never wanted to let him go… he had figured that out.

**Epilogue**

A year had gone by. A painful, aching year, and the boys had been through so much. Too much, and it hurt, and there were moments where both Sam and Dean wanted to die. But… it was different. Despite everything, Dean was a little easier on Sam. He just sort of… knew now, what it was like. And Sam tried harder. And he loved more, and he remembered what it was like to see colors, even if he hadn't learned the names of all of them. He remembered Dean's face, and that smirk, and… and everything.

He still had Balthazar, too, when he was around. And it wasn't always, and not nearly as often as Sam wanted. Sam and Balthazar didn't have what Dean and Castiel did, but it was okay. For now. For now, because Balthazar had given Sam that gift, and every time Sam started to forget what it was like to see, he'd be there. Holding him, kissing him, making him scream, and making him see. And that, in itself, was enough.


End file.
